we are gone

in the spring,

you may look for us,

but nothing is all you will find,

for we are gone,

traveling the hills westward,

soaring over mountain peeks,

gliding through sunken valleys;

we are gone;

left behind,

with all the recycled trash,

yesterday’s news,

trapped within the hollow strands

of tomorrow’s tragedy,

laboriously flailing along

like forgotten refugees,

displaced by new dreams

and decaying winter filth;

we are gone;

do not look in hidden summer sanctuaries,

nor behind effervescent nooks and crannies,

the dawn will bring no more questions,

the sky no more answers,

mystery bemoans her children,

destiny awakens from its slumber,

we have become the evening shadows;

all things fade,

all things disappear,

all things end;

we are gone.

.

.