Forgotten Children

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.