The Sky Wears Its Purple Mask

Short poem description TBC. Thanks and respect to Richard Conway for this rather elegant offering.

The sky wears its purple mask to hide the sun in shame
As the thunder rumbles on out over the desert plains
I can see the lighting crashing its reflection through the clouds
The air hangs so heavy, still, sinking into the ground

Her memory comes’ riding through this vicious, morbid scene
The little girl, the quiet storm, which shook me violently
To her the ghostly ruins and the rusted cage within
To her my avenging anger, to her my saintly sin

The dead river runs ragged, like a scar upon the land
It is there where I buried her, let the dust fall from my hands
High above me the black crows and vultures were circling
No grief laid itself upon my eyes, no tears tainted my skin

I looked up to the heavens but saw nothing but vacancy
No God of love, no God above, no God to forgive me

Days wander past like shadows so slowly stealing time
As I fall in and out of sleep to escape my shackles and confines
I try to fly from this world to the kingdom that I’ve been told
Lays beyond these festering lands, down the road paved with gold

In fleeting dreams I see her as she silently approaches
In fleeting dreams I see her as she silently approaches
I reach out to touch her, move towards her without pause
She disappears and she laughs 'No more, my lover, my lover no more'


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Inspiration for poetry can come from absolutely anywhere or from any past or anticipated life experience desire ambition love lust hate doubt even negative feelings and emotions are responsible for outburts of creativity in the meekest of personalities