Silence came between the first words
And the last were whispered, effort
and gauzy-breathed whispers.
Life can be this way, a long pause
between words and labored lasts.
Always within the man is the man himself
Stepping outside a bit to see the lee side of the wind
and the spirit wave
like banners in the breeze
where the rolling masts invite the tiring gulls
To pause and settle, accept the rolling face of the sea
as a most fitting mirror.
Always without, the sense of self,
the judge’s judge; admitting the bias of pained heart.
The lasting scars are the words and deeds
done to the living now-dead
Where apology falls like the soft night curtain
and the petal’s edge has lost all invitation.
Always the man, in action, thought and word
A great deception upon the world for
Within the man within…is a lonely, lost child;
As soundless tears make lullabies.
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