Never Was

out here in this wasted space,

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss,

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues

among lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees

between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark;

old debts return, tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat, holding on until

there is nothing left;

without hope,

without chance;

beautiful dreams flow like a river,

on their way to imaginary seas,

dancing like butterflies on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic within the caverns

of mindless souls;

one more time,

traveling down long and lonesome roads,

searching for a home inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began;

my eyes have seen what others have not,

my heart has known that which no heart should;

sometimes the greatest love,

is that which never was.

.

.