The spirit of my ancestors haunts my soul as they move upon a violent cloud. They walk across a boundless rainbow while their tears fall down the face of god. Growing ever so restless of this futile ground they possess the breath of life. I am forced to hear these livid voices that cry out beneath a wounded tree. Their bodies reside within my mind with feet stomping at my every heartbeat.I inhale their floating thoughts that speak to me through silence of moments that were supposed to be. These pounding stories are captured in raging whispers over a calm reflecting thought.
“Envied are those who are loved for they remain forever, the lonely exists only in solitude never to be remembered.”
Blinding are their visions at times with ideas of a rebellious nature invading on a once innocent glance. Each blink reveals an unavoidable picture filled with unspoken memories. These untold stories disturb the lonely and shatter all useless dreams. For within their hands hold overflowing knowledge desperately waiting to be absorbed. But their arms grow weary, no longer able to endure the weight of wisdom ignored. A burden released only by a captured reflection that mirrors images of their own. As I walk in the spirit of my forgotten ancestors I search for their unfinished dreams and am in constant reminder that I too am an expression of a moment loss in time. Shall they parish here in this meaningless state without a thought to support the journey? For their thoughts are all that I am, all that I have, and therefore, all that matters…