Silent Melodies

Slipping through alabaster air,

Electric patterns tracing,

Blind haven of solitude,

A mute spectator to the atrocities.

Crying across meadows of possibilities,

Soaring low in mourning before grey beaches,

where the songs gasp their last note and lay down to die.

Dipping porcelain fingertips into crystal speckled lakes

which swirl with the remnants of dropped lyrics.

And as they fly, their spools unwind

A trail of breadcrumbs for those to follow

who dare to lose themselves along the way

of finding the truth behind the melodies.

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