The yonder brightens as it’s engulfed and snatched from ours vision by the darkness claws.
A bloomed flower lays, as its soul hovers over what used to be and what is.
Red hot tears pierce the cheek bones flowing without a sound to be heard.
Disease riddled yet puzzling is the feeling so unprecedented to the cajoled souls advised to take heart.
Self consoling to “heed not my action but my words” is all that rings in mine ears
Why the dickens did it have to be as such? a whim of nostalgia emanating from within.
Reminiscing of the arduous days spent coining a future that was never to be.
We can’t help but look back at the potency and bliss we so held dear.
Redundant is the new norm for a record of your favorite playlist liven your memories .
A potent atmosphere lingers given the overwhelming loss upon us.
Solace is what’s left to define our pain, sympathy nor empathy we need not having openly accepted what’s to come.
© 2018 Sir. George Githunguri