The One Who Chose The Road

He walks the streets, alone in self deprecation...

He curses himself silently,

Over things unsaid,

And things undone

The fool believes himself unworthy of such basic things;

To love and be loved, until he understands love in all it's undeniably true and perfect beauty

He knew it once but did not understand it, and the more he understood, the more he stubbornly refused to inherit it

The dark road spoke to him 

So he watched from afar, as she was rekindled

The fire would never return for him;

The lost one, the pitiable, the desolate

To laugh would be to cry

He knew death, on the red horizon

but feared his own blood

And so she faded like the winter,

wiped away by the cold chill of time

Footprints in the snow, a memory of warmth on his shoulder

And yet he walked, and walked, until time was meaningless;

A bruised and forgotten soul ,

Not daring to be found,

His encumbering sorrow, 

His final mark upon the world.