At the end of a Poets goodbye.

As I just stood there feeling very sad and helpless watching as he wandered aimlessly through what was left over from the last of the remains of a lost and broken world, a place where he once knew back in another moment of time when he lived happily with his wife and four boys and loved every single one of them with his whole heart and soul but now long ago abandoned by all four for reason unknown to him lost in a place that time itself seemed to have forgotten through the tiny refractions caused by the cracks along with the dust in his dirty reflection that was coming from what was left of broken mirror he used every morning when the sun rose, as he quietly keeps on searching in the area he believes used to be his home for something or maybe it was someone giving off a sorrowful yet pitiful sound of an eerie deafening silence as he meticulously looked what literally was like only a few inches at a time, I mean after all, it was his own soul he was looking for, so time had absolutely no meaning at all, even as it had always searched for his lost mate everywhere it could through the days and nights of yesterdays in memories and photographs even in all of the dreams and hopes that they once had finding nothing at all in the shadows but nightmares he had that were left over from the missing laughter coming from the many stains left behind by the teardrops of who had left him all alone broken and lost so lonely and scared of what the future would bare, always promising himself that he was getting close while preaching to nobody all of his self righteous reasoning while spouting out those words that had absolutely no rhyme or reasoning spelling out his epitaph that was woven into all of the many reasons of why all my emotions that I can no longer feel as my heart today stays always broken causing the melody to slow to the rhythm of a bad winters storm for here now is the reason that the blood in his ink has now gone so cold causing the words he is writing to slowly die then disappear forever never to be seen again from the pages of his pathetic life before the ink had even gotten the chance to dry, while all around the darkness surrounds him constricting him like a giant snake making it hard to breath consuming all the light it could find including the sun that would rise starting a brand new day, the moon casting its pale glow down upon the blanket where he lay and all the stars in the sky so that he could make no more wishes until all was black when he took his last breath with his last thought remembering the birth of all four of his sons at the end of poets goodbye.
Poet Richard M Knittle Jr. A Poet's Journey

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