SyFaixan

I sit atop a lonely hill and all beneath is quiet and still. The thrum of busy life has gone, its timpani will beat at morn. Birds gather under eaves of night, before they take the day’s end flight. Till then I sit and let dusk glance around me as the stars advance. Light is fading, candles lit, Memories reaching from a pit, climbing up the hill to me, blindly for they cannot see. I’m steeped in shadows from the past, knowing that they cannot last - these sightless things, they strive to feel, And reach to me atop the hill. But brief are those that take my breath, and render me a taste of death, as I lay upon this silent hill, n

If one might deign, To hear a penny for a thought, To give insight best, To listen attentively, And to offer a condolence to those lost. One of us is fine, The other is not, And the two of us together, Are neither one or the other. We share blood, Like we share so much else, Between us, There is not a secret lost. So listen to this, And tell me what we speak, Whether it is in rhyme, Time, Or jest. We settled the matter long ago, And now we sit here, Row by row, Our wary eyes, The only ones to decieve, That when we see falsehood, We turn a blindeye. We know the pain, To be left on the street, In need of ssome food,