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Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Grays and Browns




I’ve wandered this barren land too long,
The landscape drenched in
The grays and browns of death.
Nothing grows here anymore,
Lost in endless winter,
No warmth in sight.
All things need nourishment,
But there is no sustenance,
Nothing vital and alive,
All is decayed, putrefied, emaciated.
If I remain, the same will happen to me.
The time has come for escape,
To cross the border to a new land
Where my heart can once again flourish
Rather than join the withered remnants,
Lost forever to the grays and browns.

4 comments:

Mary said...

Some of the hardest borders to cross sometimes are mental borders of one sort or another...

Brian Miller said...

nice....these are borders we def have to break through...a bit part of it is the recognizing...great description....

Tino said...

Some of the hardest borders to cross sometimes are mental borders of one sort or another...

You aint kidding!

I was lost in the Grays and Browns, so I can relate to this very well. You sum up what that place is like with complete accuracy!

Claudia said...

yes..we tend to stay in such lands longer than we should because we hope that spring comes again..but then, there's time to leave if nothing changes..