Outreached Hand ~Timothy Dougherty
Sometimes we, the enchanted ones;with that gleam in our eyes, the ones with the smell of vague thoughts and low voice in tune with ethereal
We the vanishing ones , in the night drifting or just afloat like a leaf on the wet streets , a flush of the wind and rain and we are gone
Some walk by and coins or real folding money fall down, on to some tangled forest swept tangled hair, a "thank-you" and gone to a new home
The storm-tossed ship ,that we call life is just the life broke up, like a great river's ice at touch of the new spring , the air like wine
We seem to be all just like icicles tapering in the cold air,silent sheeted dead, all things beautiful will drift away like drops in waters
Icicles the flight of a million arrows, headed to earth ,the anxiety hung in the dark unconscious ,the unexpected is ideal as any frail body
A thoughts tears glistened as vibrations create the unpleasing strain, first like a tear the siver, glistened than the sunshine into rain
The cold hands come to welcome, comes to heal the blows of sound the stars fill the silence softly like a smile white robed clouds gathers
We play as sand plays at seashore, that drinks in steady the pluging rain at drifted seashores,filling in the silence with out reached hand
