Echoes of a Graying Shadow

I stand upon the dying grass

A silhouette of graying figure

Against the scorching rays of sun

Beads of anxiety hang on my brows

Like the impending gloom of an over thought.

With these calloused hands I have held,

Memories of dust devoured by time

Falling upon the fragile skin of earth,

The remnants of my once alive words

Feel like a scratch, husk like and coarse!

A tired figure of imaginary burden

I stand looking up for a drop of patience,

As I slip through the divine tapestry

Into the whirlwind of bareness and silence.