Strange are my dreams of late.
Crunching boots upon a glacier's peak.
Strangers approach with their faces twisted.
Speech contorts to meaningless noise
I leave them. Nothing good comes
From empty words.
A flowing river laughs at trees rooted in their place
Just to follow the same muddy trail eternally.
A red line, thinly painted, is to be my shepherd.
Which way I travel matters little
The brand smoldered my flesh,
Before my hands were my own.
Say what you will of dreams.
Obscure, confusing, prophecies,
And yet they disturb me not.
Common are deceitful tricks from
Eyes and ears trained to conspire.
No brand will stay.
The ink will seep
Through craggy skin.
This name will be washed from me.
I am a child of the earth
Of the moon and the heaven.
No mark given will last.
Before, I shed them all away
I will laugh with my enemies
As we all are destined to return
As children forgotten.
2 thoughts on “Forgotten Children”