Within the graveyard of forgotten thoughts.

Shadows play among
the skeletons of a thousand minds
Within the graveyard of forgotten thoughts
In the Remnants of what could’ve been.

Bony fingers grasp for air,
clutching out in utter despair.
Memories fading under
the weight of total betrayal.

In this desolate landscape
this blank canvas
of rattling matter comes a
dirge-like refrain,
A haunting reminder
of love in vain,
Of promises unkept,
of words unspoken,
Of secrets kept,
of truths unbroken.

In this eerie silence,
the mind stands tall,
a stranger in this
graveyard of it all,
And wonders how these
thoughts did meet their end,
and what secrets lay
beneath that skeletal hand.

Yet, even in death, the whispers low,
Of the beauty that could never glow,
Of the beauty that was meant to be,
But unlike the skeletons, forever free.

A thought among the shadows and the bones,
each one fading and left untold,
A tale of joy, a tale of woe,
Comes along and then instantly goes.

The whispers speak of love and loss,
of hopes dashed upon the rocks,
Of dreams that faded into dust,
of hearts broken and turned to rust.

But among the sorrow and the pain,
there lies a glimmer, a light that remains,
A spark of hope that never dies,
A flame that burns deep in empty eyes.

Even in the graveyard of the mind,
there is beauty to be found,
In the memories that linger on,
in the echoes of love long gone.

Amidst the shadows deep,
listen to the whispers, weep,
The skeletons of a thousand minds,
can sway and dance and send us signs.

Steve Halstead