Dust Trails and Angels
You are players from a life I used to know.
The script evades me and the plot is locked away in a distant room.
I graze through these once lush fields, but the colours have faded.
The grass has cracked and the dirt is now caked mud.
Dead leaves. Dead hearts.
But I have forged my own trail, past the tombstones of your guilt.
I have stayed in the light, even when you peered at me from nearby darkness.
I have stayed the course and no judgmental gaze can take that away.
And I am burning the oil of dusklight with my rusty lamp of wisdom.
Bright sun. Bright minds.
But as the distant voices die and as I move beyond the gazes, I journey on.
I stick where you want to jag and I forge the pathway, gaining no dust.
There is new light coming from the east, and the west will be lost in the ether.
I may leave some innocence and acceptance, but I breathe in the night air - deep.
New angels. New hope.
