The Drifter

What would life be if there was nothing to hang on to? What would you feel if you didn't even know if you were alive or not? What would you feel like if there was nothing left to know? Strangely enough, I don't think we'll ever know that...

Trapped inside an aged youth,
Freshness never hung in the air,
Pull me down with every whim,
Your joy was ever my despair

Walk with breeze running through my hair,
I met the sign of a new rising,
Taking me to where he belonged,
Or was it just another morning?

A dying flame erupts again,
The dormant one sits up in rage,
Passion that ever coursed the veins,
Feeling good enough again

Bring a peace into my storm,
Buy me time to take some more,
Where will is just a heap of wax,
Moulded; it has never been before

Out of sight, yet in the mind,
Words never left memories behind,
Leaving a death known for the unknown,
A salmon going upstream once more

Unmoored and still chained home,
A stallion on the city roads,
The eyes will glaze; the pace will slow,
And cut the light off at the door

Still a beacon shimmering on the waves,
Draws a thought to hopes unfair,
The promise never made, yet killing fear,
The smile that had no place in demons’ lairs

The candle’s gone; the light is dead,
But darkness, it never pervades,
The weary fingers search in vain,
But shadows just like old remain

A downstream run away from the Sun,
Yet another face among those gone,
Like waves that lift and then crash down,
The raft may sink but ships labour on

At lowest ebb of highest tide,
Going past the dawn of darkest night,
Never good enough to stand and fight,
But still so strong as not to die...