Crimson Shadows
I see the Time ambling away
Laughing at my helplessness
Present withering away to past
Past turning to ashes
Provoking flashes of memories
Moments that left deep gashes
Staring at the vast blankness
With my eyes closed
I could feel the crimson shadows
I could feel their minstrel echoes
Those tiny feet taking me through
The vast meads; floating as floe
I hear whispered prayers
I see tear stained cheeks
I smell my mother’s rosy hug
I could feel her gentle ease
As they paint the bare canvas
With brilliant colourful streaks
A mere sight sets me drifting
backwards; the years may pass
Preserving what is left of them
Just a mere mark;
Abnegating as I went further
Farther from myself, breaking apart.
What is the past then?
But just a shadow that lingers on
Deep and dark, no shape, no form
Not a voice to be heard or said
Except the ones I hear in my head
Churning out memories of moments
To live again; a thousand times more
If only I could touch the Past again
To soak in this ambrosian warmth
One more time; get drenched —
In this golden mist of lifeless shadows,
And be alive again