Night

Whispering words fall silent and still

Not a ripple of wave does turn the mill

Moonlight glows on the window sill,

But this only lasts till the morning bird trills

The world rests, at peace at last

Longing for slumber, the day had flown fast

The pillar of peace, tranquility's mast

Serenity it does finally cast.

The whispering darkness, a token of light,

Never failing to quell the long day's fight,

And until the morning bird takes flight,

The night brings calm for all in sight.

----------------------------------------------------

another one:

A brittle, cackling laugh rang in my skull.

Perhaps it was mine. I could no longer discern the difference. The wavering line between reality and imaginary had morphed, and the threads of my brain had been the victim of an undetectable pull.

I knew, actually. The prison in which I lived had expanded from fences to soul.

Trapped. Hadn't I always been? Sanity had vanished - my capture had taken its toll.

Was I becoming cold?

I was not one to be told.

Not a soul roamed, it seemed my life had been finally sold.

I had been welded into a broken mold.

Light

The light had been waning, then rising still, though I barely recognized the sight.

How many days I aged, I did not know, but I did not wallow in agony, for time is not one to fight.

Time and light passed, until the season of cold fell with glorious might.

Snowflakes fell upon my broken body, I was dying. My mind chimed 'and I was right.'

On blurred occasions, my fellow broken soul out in the pasture would come,

She spoke a few words, and would disappear after spewing language that meant something of none.

Was I dead yet?

Was my inevitable end finally set?

With my maker, I hope we met.

My body began to move without consent of my mind.

The brain simply was swung along, lifeless with no coherent thought to find.

More days as I saw them passed by,

Life is a glorious thing. Curse the foolish soul that told that lie.

Death is the end. Untruthful - I had already ended, my life had passed by.

That is from a story I am writing, about a trapped mustang.

Star of Wonder said:

another one:

A brittle, cackling laugh rang in my skull.

Perhaps it was mine. I could no longer discern the difference. The wavering line between reality and imaginary had morphed, and the threads of my brain had been the victim of an undetectable pull.

I knew, actually. The prison in which I lived had expanded from fences to soul.

Trapped. Hadn't I always been? Sanity had vanished - my capture had taken its toll.

Was I becoming cold?

I was not one to be told.

Not a soul roamed, it seemed my life had been finally sold.

I had been welded into a broken mold.

Light

The light had been waning, then rising still, though I barely recognized the sight.

How many days I aged, I did not know, but I did not wallow in agony, for time is not one to fight.

Time and light passed, until the season of cold fell with glorious might.

Snowflakes fell upon my broken body, I was dying. My mind chimed 'and I was right.'

On blurred occasions, my fellow broken soul out in the pasture would come,

She spoke a few words, and would disappear after spewing language that meant something of none.

Was I dead yet?

Was my inevitable end finally set?

With my maker, I hope we met.

My body began to move without consent of my mind.

The brain simply was swung along, lifeless with no coherent thought to find.

More days as I saw them passed by,

Life is a glorious thing. Curse the foolish soul that told that lie.

Death is the end. Untruthful - I had already ended, my life had passed by.

That is from a story I am writing, about a trapped mustang.