From life to Ash

silence of the music as it says it message, 

deep within in my soul it burns,

akin only with a family of ash,

old charred pieces of wood,

withers by the weather, and burned to keep me warm, 

buried deep within those demon eyes, 

my mind at last it has began,

to see a future form the first spurt of the new grass,

eaten only by a passing graiser a lifetime to come and to pass,

ever watching and waiting of that single blade of grass,

engulfing in the scent as though it may be its last,

The vultures pray and wait around the scorched ground,

pickings freely taken by these old and weathered bones,

like lonely stars that die before there light has time to return,

never saying or amazing these days of long and lonely moments ,

like that single blade of grass, 

alone and vulnerable 

peaceful at the night when the sun is at lowest,

fearing the morning through to the afternoon,

 where the hot desert sun glares its only eye to scorch the ground,

returning all ash with not the whispering of sound.