ominouspoet

I long to travel:
Wanderlust tugs at my soul.

Maine screams my name,
The ocean calls for its siren far away.

Salem calls me,
Whispering tales of young girls lost to time.

snow,
again.

I suppose Demeter is upset,
Persephone isn't back yet.

Hades told her they'd come,
And so bloomed the cherry plum,

But Hades didn't show.
and now,
snow.

if all you do is wear a mask,
you become a mask.

your individuality drains away,
and you become a shadow of others.

yourself is an illusion
you are only a copy.

oh you sweet child,

you aren't ready. you never will be ready, but the world will force you to take it anyways. this world has no mercy, no love. it does not care.

mountains tower over the valley,

yielding shadows.

heat empties the river, and

everything is dry,

and the wind roars,

trees,
great beasts of old.

ancient not just in age, but in nature,
standing tall, watching all

wise things, trees, knowing all they see

no words do they speak,
with no eyes they see,