credits- unsplash You, Young mister Who has incessantly tailed The footless minstrel To perpetuate the standings Of dead moons Come,rest I am still farther off my reach Beyond the path, Slithering down

For I know not To what end this journey walks In this wandering to trace the Outline if my breath. The fat path that thins and Declines like light in a dying eye A sense of squandered hope The metal lift

image credits: pexels My mind screeched, in the gravels that showed the entrance, to my wall and I could vaguely see, what was left. I opened the door through comments and nearly coughed as the dusts reached

What do we do, when failure lurks? when we are disappointed, when we become complecant of victory when we are not where we believe to be. when no one cares whether your dead. when you can rarely find food

I look at the sea so endless, our thoughts so much, endless. Now i am speechless. Nothing in my pen penniless. So far and wide. Our thoughts, imaginations in a slide, page after page we build a notion,