Monday, July 30, 2007


Surrounded by walls of many colors
Myths are born each time
Contemplation within these walls
In the presence of dying vines
Stubbles replace ivy leaves
A crumbling wall that grieves
Of what is on the outer wall
Tears from there
That cannot bare
Attempting to enter this space
In my chair the days pass by
Under the guise of the purplish sky
Cries of people are muffled low
Vying for position within the masses
I hear their screams
Within my dreams
Amidst the dreams of yellow
That defy the vines withered
Whispers reach my ears
My tears have long deserted me
With closed eyes I listen
The voices are like my own
Reminding me from where I came

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved