Vagrant Whispers

Shards of dreams pepper my eyes the scent of dusk
as I wade through the vast thicket of longing drenched
tainted a bit by desire for that which cannot be consumed
forgotten images of stolen pasts whose stories are not mine to tell
broken inside a vivid catalyst, sweet-tasting forgery of nothing
though I once thought of something better to give to the gods
silver haired giants mounted on peaking thrones of stone
fortune smiles in some desolate field but the farmer hears it moving
and I watch with my stained glass smile and straight glare
what is it about this time, this pleasant unpleasantness
but my wine tastes better after I'm spent and soaked
the steady sound of falling rain like pin-pricks in the distance
and I swear there's the faintest sound of laughter amidst the hum
fallen but in no way dead though i hear they do rise again
open-mind, gentle ramblings walking a finite line between
all that is, all that could and all that should be but isn't
tracing the moments like epiphanies till I see those eyes
those beautuful haunting eyes and I know I am free.