A Place That Has No End - Farberism's Freewriting 2/3/25

I listened to the wind and heard

Silence--words muddled and blurred.

The bitter pain of memories,

Lost and replaced.

The soft-shoe shufflers, beware--

They may unleash a drowning wave.

Your stories, and knowing how they breathe,

Will desire to be buried,

Never finding time to leave.

Book pages worn and torn,

With little light to see;

The loss of love forgotten,

Whittled down to me.

An old shirt blowing on a hanger’s wire,

Vast lands torched by a wildfire.

Old Man crooning out of speakers;

An old rusty nail holding up a life on a wall--

The image casts a ray from up on high.

Broken windows, broken hearts, broken pieces,

Broken apart--and still, we wonder why.

Love is challenging from a place we cannot see.

Remains stick fast to hearts on the mend.

Some lovers--like us, or me--

Find a place that has no end.

Some people won’t stop living until they die.

Ask me about it, and I’ll tell you why:

She still lives inside,

Hanging--just hanging onto strands--

While I play out my days,

Knowing--just knowing--how it ends.

Peace,

Chris