The Forgiver dictates a lonely path, where echoes of solace fade to dust. No warmth to grasp, no hand to hold, just shadows lengthening, cold and vast.
Each step a penitent’s measured stride, towards a horizon etched in grey. Forgiveness, a hollow decree, a whispered sentence on the wind. A solitary march, unseen, unmourned, the soul’s quiet, mournful end.
The stars above, though bright they shine, unreachable, their comfort gone. This path, chosen not by will, but by a weight that cannot be undone. A mind without a body’s grace, forever bound to what has been.
The silence screams, a chilling truth, this loneliness, a heavy crown. The forgiver’s burden, a crushing gift, leaving behind a soul forlorn. A lonely vigil, day and night, waiting for a dawn that cannot be born.
For in this darkness, deep and stark, the forgiver dictates a path alone, until the last spark dies.
hello dearest Adagio you are really writing some awe inspiring stuff 💕
I do so like, haunting, when not scratching mange of darkness decay. .
Beautifully penned, Adagio. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Changing pace, trying to rip it up.
Fantastic artwork choice, Syr Poet,
Filled to the brim with imagery and metaphoric magic, your dark side reeks of enchanting raconteuric finesse, with your well-placed intermittent rhymes genius to one’s poetic senses.
“Each step a penitent’s measured stride, towards a horizon etched in grey. Forgiveness, a hollow decree, a whispered sentence on the wind. A solitary march, unseen, unmourned, the soul’s quiet, mournful end.”
Yet, every line speaks in its own voice of sheer magnetic mastery.
“A most brilliant work,” says I, “M’Friend!” ⁓ Richard🖌
I thank you.