To the Finish Line

While the moon guards over the mountain slopes and its beams drum up every heartbeat, I hit the pavement. Amidst the deafening and orgasmic sound of the crickets, my sweat drops beat the black earth pound by pound, ranting a rhythmic voyage to the unknown. Purposeful, mechanical, musical, each muscle hums a chord of existence that gives a joyous and vivid inertia equal to that of a melodic dance.
With the horizon far beyond my reach, I head on, crashing the wind’s armour and echoing its stubborn yet challenging howl. The numbers pressed on, methodically cavorting with my efforts to beat it, similarly setting its sights on the edge up ahead and keeping me diverted. Thoughts swirl in my grays, gently massaging its every nerve, giving enough spaces for reason, wonder, and capitulation to battle till death.

Photo of the Day: Deadly Season

IMG_0569

 

There is something about dead trees and dark, dreary buildings that inspire and create poetry, if not madness.  It could be that the darkness awaken spirits within them or within us…

Scarlet writings etched upon the wall

A reminder of that fateful day

Of hues and picturesque sights
On my canvas

Mystery. Passion. Fear. Angst.
Pierced and smeared with black and white

Capturing every space and turning it
Into a masterpiece

Blank. White. Pallid.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.