Walking shadow halls in silence,
Those distant memories I find
Of past and ancient faded traces,
Engraved as symbols in my mind.
Slow pace, each step like misty stroll,
The feeling of my inner shaking,
Like from a binding dream awaking -
So desperate it pulls my soul.
That call I hear, I can’t resist it,
Its sound capturing my sense.
Heart stops to beat, weak is my conscious
The call of ancient’s so intense.
And there it comes in blurring visions
A life in far, forgotten days -
A gallery of thousand seasons,
Long past and lost in velvet haze.
As tapestry unwinds around me,
So sudden final knowledge comes
Of ever sacred higher purpose,
My ancient kin me solely grants.
Walking shadow halls
© Copyright: Винсент Марков, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114020607861
Свидетельство о публикации №114020607861
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