The open road ahead, the sky purple and the horizon, evasive.
She stands still but wonders, amidst the sands of time,
At this journey’s end, when will the sun set on the twilight of life?
Is this the end or is it just beginning?
Should I have escaped it long ago, even before it let me be?
Had I not travelled the distance, would it already have set me free?
This long road, a mere vicious circle.
Caught in the eye of a purple storm of caution, squandering life away.
Dreaming of destinations,
Her gypsy heart rapt in the journey.
Always a mere misfit, a transfixed iconoclast.
For it is eventually wiped away by this wave, a tidal wave of time.
She stood there, as calm as a rising tide, engulfed in the surrealities of what could’ve been.
Time, a merciless assassin, slices away the possibilities ahead,
She's buried in the wounds and is left scarred, and all she sees is fading away in the purple sunset.
Submerged deep in the purple haze of regret,
Desperation building.
Dizzy, looking for an escape,
Reality closing in.
It was now or never.
This was her metamorphosis
The sunset dusking on her,
The silver moonlight chases the purple away,
Sunkissed memories overwritten with time,
She retreats her steps, as the purple turns the silver,
And silver to grey.
The silver turns to grey.
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