White Wall
Ghostly hands
touch the fog
shielding the future
from my sight,
and I stare
deep into the white,
wondering what is approaching,
what is waiting
in the wings of another year
pulling the strings
and unraveling the rest of now
to bring it closer to me.
Pushing through the fog,
I still see nothing,
and the ground has been swallowed
into the hands of oblivion.
I hang by a mere thread,
dangling between now
and a new year
burning far away
with whispered promises
of bringing more dreams alive.
This rocky terrain
has left me cut and bruised,
but I still climbed.
I stopped falling down
a long time ago,
and I climbed.
Here I stand
closer to the top of a world
I beg to know me,
know my talents,
my dreams,
and a life
spilled
across endless pages
I keep close to my heart.
I climbed
higher and higher,
and now I stand
against a wall of white.
When will I see?
When will I know?
How much farther must I climb
before I stand upon the world,
and should fear entertain my thoughts
of watching my dreams
become swallowed back
into shadow,
jagged edges of my past?
I am tired of the fear.
I am tired of thinking
that my life has reached no accomplishment.
You found me,
and you gave me the inspiration
I needed
to walk and to climb,
and now
I take another
step
into the velvet white halls
of next year.
White Wall
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
touch the fog
shielding the future
from my sight,
and I stare
deep into the white,
wondering what is approaching,
what is waiting
in the wings of another year
pulling the strings
and unraveling the rest of now
to bring it closer to me.
Pushing through the fog,
I still see nothing,
and the ground has been swallowed
into the hands of oblivion.
I hang by a mere thread,
dangling between now
and a new year
burning far away
with whispered promises
of bringing more dreams alive.
This rocky terrain
has left me cut and bruised,
but I still climbed.
I stopped falling down
a long time ago,
and I climbed.
Here I stand
closer to the top of a world
I beg to know me,
know my talents,
my dreams,
and a life
spilled
across endless pages
I keep close to my heart.
I climbed
higher and higher,
and now I stand
against a wall of white.
When will I see?
When will I know?
How much farther must I climb
before I stand upon the world,
and should fear entertain my thoughts
of watching my dreams
become swallowed back
into shadow,
jagged edges of my past?
I am tired of the fear.
I am tired of thinking
that my life has reached no accomplishment.
You found me,
and you gave me the inspiration
I needed
to walk and to climb,
and now
I take another
step
into the velvet white halls
of next year.
White Wall
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
clarissa mckone
Fri 28th Dec 2007 04:47
Melissa, this is wonderful!