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What Is A Forlorn Hope?  (With Old English And Dutch Influence And Germanic Origins)

Although they are dregs,

Let me tell you what it's like

to live forlornly—

The Wind is never too late
Minutes and hours may pool into an endless shadow clock
but She cares not for the tick tock tick tock
She has been cast into many worlds
With no hope to ever unfurl

Ravaged with unrest
We seek Her company but know not what is best
For Her

She curls Her arms in a lover's embrace
We reach out in hope
We leave with despair

To Her
we are a ghost of live's past
we are a measure of time She cannot understand
we become dust in Her shapeless lands

And yet... the Wind is never too late
She casts Her endless touch
Hoping        needing        yearning

She is here
She is now
She is always
(The past cannot present itself
when the future was never there)

Sadness beckons, widens, and burdens
And like a loose cannon
we shoot out into the distance
reaching out for anything

To hold
To conquer
To master
To love

But, The Wind... She knows
She is never too late
She catches our follies when we become one with the daisies
She carries our songs which blankets those worlds
She chronicles our stories and heralds them across endless sands

The Wind is here
The Wind is now
The Wind is always

For us
For Her

..........

(photo from lightworkers.org)

he feels dejected,

grim, down-in-the-mouth,

mirthless, mournful, 

moody and droopy,

dragged, trite,

and nothing is right, 

anguished, forlorn,

woeful in the depths of despair.

he tries to think 

of sweetest memories,

but as he casts his 

grappling hook to 

secure his ascent

over the walls he's built,

the rope becomes 

frayed and breaks.

the weight of his 

guilt has grown too 

ponderous, and his

spine too soft to

bear the rigors 

of the climb that he

now sees he must 

journey on his own.

sinking deeper into

his abyss he struggles 

to remember something 

other than this limbo

of darkness and dread,

the disbelief of this reality

he fails again and again

to overcome, and desperation sets in.

clinging to old feelings,

and the desire for a love 

long gone, he withers

in a sea of hopelessness,

and every good memory

takes him back to the 

bottom of this wallowing 

pit of sorrow and pain.

people pass by,

some with compassionate

flurries of empathy

that quickly ferment to feed 

the destruction of any 

aspirations for change,

and the nature of his misery

flourishes unto his bitter end.

he thought she was his world,

and now she's gone,

moved on to another dimension

on the wings of a dove,

to blaze new trails without him,

but his mind cannot accept

that was the whole purpose of 

their meeting in this life.

she came to prepare him

for this dark night of the soul,

and his task is to overcome it,

he listens for her voice

to soothe him as it did before,

and the scorching fires of 

truth that strip his soul naked

have left him angry and inflexible.

and when he sleeps, 

she watches 

through timeless portals,

the man she left behind, 

and wonders 

if he'll ever pass

the test 

of this lifetime.

he doesn't seem 

to understand her whispers in the dark,

he only understands the love they had so long ago,

he's trapped in something 

only he can bring unto an end,

or wander in his denial, his heart never to mend,

for unbeknownst to him this lifetime is his only chance

for them to ever have another lifetime in this dance.

11:41 PM 8/7/2013  ©

..............

...........

the sad wimpish one 

he covers his body with blood

hoping someone will notice

just how ugly he is

he wants to be noticed

for the great person he truly is

but has no time to notice

that no one notices

anything anymore

and life goes on

and he stays sad

dying to live

and crying to die

never having the balls

to ask himself why

2:39 AM 7/6/2013

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