Ruins

Vestiges of a forgotten past
Arise again to haunt the dead
Like ghostly whispers
on the winterly wind,
Their echoes linger in my head

Yet in these echoes we find,
The seams of a seemless mind
Woes Threaded from shreds
Akin to the skin
the mind sheds

Now with the parting of seas
time has taken what it will
all but the fated release
All but the static, still.
round the meadow's mill
i never found my self
spirited away.. ashes to seed
bequeathed, in a memory
she felt my presence, upon the hill
evanescent as the sky...
gentle as the breeze...the end is nigh
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