He'd watch the skies for a sign, he saw the sparrows skim beneath the hot summer breeze; unrelenting heat waves bearing down on forlorn pieces shattered by man and time.
Today is that day he decided to take stock; not of the time, but of the weight that it imbues. His shoulders set straight, a vast sea of unknowns lies before him, it's a familiar but far off feeling.. Everything is working like a cog, familiar feels. Takes the mind of the edge.
He has a permanent recollection of what the past has done to him; he's learned that, acceptance comes from within.. the bit where one is left on their own, to fend for themselves albeit with a watchful eye hovering above every step he makes.
He believes, he yawns... Time's not been kind.
Unsettled but definitely at peace. What was spoken in ages gone by, so be it. Acceptance.
Finding joy, finding peace, gaining perspective and mostly rising from the ashes.
A reset. He won't forget. You swooped in at the crack of dawn, and stole an ancient blessing. Then backed out. It will hit home: One day at a time.
In his mind, Michael Holloway Belts a piece called The Forlorn Heart
Alone in the company of myself
How the walls seem ghostly quiet
Thoughts drift to a romance broken
The girl that never was or could not be
Stay my tongue lest I speak ill of love
The words of a broken heart are fierce
And sharp as any blade ever known
Cutting into the depths of the soul
The silence of the night haunting
And I alone mourn my own heart
What love, what girl I shall not name
For it pains to speak such words
And these walls, empty as they are
Have become my tomb, farewell love
Alone with a broken heart I yield
That which I was never to know
Were I a greater man than I
How would my own company stand
Would I know it alone at all
Would I know these ghostly walls
As I know too well my heart
My loves sad quiet demise
The forlorn heart exists
Where there is only myself and I
A subscript of an equation that is not collectively exhaustive. Time tells many Tells.
Memoirs #1 of Peszt.
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