PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Your blood no longer flows in my veins.

It has long since been dried up,

Been emptied from me,

Taken from my flesh and used,

Becoming ink, and tears splattered upon

Blank canvases and left there for years,

Seeping down into time's weave,

Crusting away until it cannot be removed. 

It cannot be washed away.

But there is a difference in me now.

My drained flesh is now formed of earth,

My spirit clearer than fresh mountain air,

My will, a blazing, consuming fire,

And water is my new blood,

The dreaming tide that sweeps the sleepers

Along the banks of the river's shore,

Past the weeping willows that reach out,

Tangling their arms together,

Waiting breathlessly for the end of time's beginning.

I will dance amid the mountaintops,

Snow glistening beneath me.

My spirit flying high and free,

My will reflected in every campfire that burns

In the forests below.