The Wind's Breath Finds A Face

Alone this spirit wanders drabs
which linger on edges of slabs:
cold-grey they whisper sanity
into secret realms; vanity.

Reckless thought flutters loneliness
while mists tremble death's fine ardour,
fractures of vision disturb bliss,
flapping curls of long lost armour
roam this graveyard's sanctuary -
on wet cheeks they slip so gently.

Night time's stuttered frowns bellow ghosts,
starlight dance their quick ripostes
from a universe's wild wings,
bereft voices; distant beings,
wrap colours into shades so dark,
laughter erupts from feelings; stark,
and time slaps another moment
onto this old battered merchant.

Life's wisdom glides away to reap
the pleasures of an endless sleep,
a soul; in anguish waves farewell
to the chimes of an earthly bell.

At last! The wind's breath finds a face;
lost within the tears of disgrace,
shadows pause in a wilderness
where sharp teeth shall carve this carcass,
welcome release walks past these eyes,
and now, there will be no more sighs.