Of Deserts and Skies
Of deserts and skies
By Ephemeral_Dreams
A man walks in the shadows, the warm sand scorching his feet.
A lost soul in the meadows, the heat not even touching his heart.
Ever since his childhood, that is all he has known.
Never once into adulthood, has he ever shown.
A side of his cheek, an inch of his face.
His resolve so meek, a cinched piece of fate.
He has walked, despite the holes and quicksand in his way.
He was stalked, respite just a thousand miles away.
Yet the distance never decreases, nor does he bother to check anymore.
The resistance grows weaker, not that he cares that much anymore.
He did meet a few wanderers, those on a different path, towards the sun.
He did greet a few warmongers, these on a concurrent path, away, on the run.
His path is unique, none so congruent.
He has searched but found none, nothing to fit his piece.
A bath looks so bleak, relief so truant.
He has hoped for naught but one, something to fill the crease.
Not so long ago, his gaze was high, to the skies.
In the days of carefree wishes, joyous leaps into the air.
Not so long ago, his feet lost their right, to the sands.
Into the lays of the witches, a room empty but a chair.
There he sat, questioned by the darkness that surrounded him.
And to them he spat, his soul not so easily extinguished.
He knew not why, he knew not how he fell to where he was.
He knew nigh, he threw a vow to tell of the abyss.
Unknown days of darkness and parched throats passed, before he made his escape.
Unknown was his struggle, even his existence that he kept so secret.
He wanted all to see, to cure the seed that grows in men.
He wished to stand tall and see, the world about him, earth and sky.
After ignored cries, thrown rocks and more pits of bottomless pain.
After the bile that rose , mocking shouts and more scars than droplets in the rain.
His pace slowed, his heart grew colder than the very darkness he despised.
His race lost, his mirth that he knew gone, his face sterner than a statue he sought to break.
He heard an echo from far yonder, distance unknown.
He wanted to look up, more than anything, to see the source and the sky.
But alas, even when the sands became bright, it was only a gap among thunderclouds.
A part of him held, though, just as he clung onto life so miserable.
The voice kept calling, a day, a week, month, a year.
Nigh three years and probably some, he had long lost sense of time.
Echoes stronger or weaker, his heart determined regardless of the distance.
But walk he did, for the faintest hope was still lit.
The candle long forgotten, on the altar of dreams.
Even as he nears the source, of the hopeful echoes and whispers of things to come.
He sees naught but the sand, thunderclouds that chase him as his nightmares did.
Yet it was his hope, that at the end of it all, he wouldn't be a fool.
He wished to help, only thing he did.
The hope that one day he would fall into a pair of arms.
The hope that his heart would finally share its burden.
The dream that he will wake up next to his beloved, one and only.
The screams of his nightmares will be silenced, by his one and only.
That though the recovery will be arduous, the wounds would close.
No matter the time it took, it will be marvelous, the end product of it all.
A sculpture of untold beauty and terror.
A scripture to last through the ages, of pain and pleasure.
To become a chick that would sprout wings one day,
Gilded by fire and rain, guided by his sorrows and pain.
That he would one day meet that soul, that would embrace him in the storm.
That one person that would take him and teach him to fly.
Into the skies he so feared to gaze, to the source of the storm.
To rise above it all, see the sun, the source of all light.
Feel the warmth with his bare skin, see the truth of it all.
The truth of thunderstorms and sunny skies.
That the sky changes, unlike the immutable earth.
That it gives light and rain, without regret or mirth.
That it is up to him to fly, and soar above it all.
With his one and only, one who gave him his all.
There the two will sing, in harmonious peace. Of rain and thunder.
There the duo will fly, until their wings are no more. Their joints asunder.
There the pair will climb, until there is no more. But to embrace one another.
Then the two will fall, in unbreakable embrace. Until their cries become thunder.
A...shoutout of sorts to Blackfanged_Leopard, my best friend in all of Mordor.
And a compilation of..recent feelings per se. have been...a storm, heh.
Again, thank you readers, for reading my sporadic-but-hopefully-great poems.
Constructive criticisms are welcome, cookies may be involved.
As usual, the work is Copyrighted to Ephemeral_Dreams. please do not vend/distribute without express permission.