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... to all things an ending |
Brumby [Closure, Part II] A dream of pale horses as they canter through the night Some day they might find me, maybe, when the time is right … some time in a distant past, a dark horse galloped in, ran the course, and ran it fast, the races it would win Unbridled through the furlongs drawn, ran mostly for itself Plumbed through depths, the fathom's brawn, … set shallow, on the shelves 'tween islands small and continents … the distances between Sailed through a navy blue, a merchant, sold and seen Viewed and bought by many, returned by some, the same A dreamer spending pennies, rules still pending in his game Like paths carved through a woodland dense through forests, cycles... tricks A game of luck, a game of chance, with thrones made up of bricks A corrugated cubby hole, with features welded fresh Pirate swords cut rough from wood, the jigsaw pieces mesh A house of cards set rigid, stands, some days in hand afar Jobs completed, cash in hand, with coins stored up in jars Trout raised in small reservoirs, the ones that got away How we got to where we are, … it's difficult to say Maybe somewhere Marty knows, some dreams are never caught Reined up, wrapped in rainbows, some things just can't be bought Still Shetland ponies run, beguiled, as fast as legs can check With TV's shot, reports sound wild, … a domino effect With so much guilt, fostered so late, and pride left on display With broken plates and tempted fates, tested all the way A travelled soul, worn weary... old, a husk to what has been A cancer aching in the soul, … not many moves to glean As wooden pieces line the board, chequered brown and white A King carved pale, 'gainst a horde, with checkmate soon in sight A shadow cast in morning's light, a shell from dusk till dawn A shade of what has played before, from memories long born Established in a timeline proud, an hour glass blown short With grains lost spilt, 'tween hairline cracks, so split... a life abort A last pained final sunset falls, a destined, dim... decline, as certain as the twilight's call, a drawing down off blinds Returning to such fields lost, Elysian, where they play An opium drove winding down, … the closing of the day A dream of wild horses, with a carriage, darkened... drawn A prayer sent cross a prairie, dragging through till dawn Still leaving without warning, neither whimper, call nor shout So silent in the morning … a pale horse rides out |