Footsteps Of The Departed

Woebegone we define.

Infuse our lives together to wither in each other’s arms.

We’ve become tempered to the tyranny that has set the veneer across our eyes.

Trapped in the offing left by the chastisement of the waves.

Claimed are the vocations of our failing vibrancy.

Cascading into a silent embrace meant for the ill-eased.

These memories colorize.

Fall into the creations of beleaguered men.

Grandiose are the dreams and amorous sighs left behind by the faithful.

Languorous are the endeavors and footsteps of the departed.

Deprecation, erstwhile the reality of us all.

It is time to dissemble our own valor.

For we know not what the sun’s setting may bring.

For the darkness and its pending dénouement to this life is of deep affection.

Collecting the hearts of everyone.

– 1985 AD

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