Friday, July 31, 2015

prose poem 16 | broken road

Glinting madness shines from rainbow skies. The sheer cliff face of perfidious past presses on the right; the specter of death dances unseen to the left, hidden in heavy fog. The cragged path protrudes, pushes, narrows, and twists against footfalls.

Weird secrets await, tarnished silver and old gold too. Deeper descent discovers yet rends.
Pretending at glory pales ere long.

Only pale specters return from the road.

Or do only broken ghosts begin it?

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