memories

The feeling of Joy

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Joy comes from a secret well,
That is hidden deep in every heart,
Buried so as to resist winters cold.
It needs but a moment to bloom.
As if born specially to banish darkness,
It can rise like a gushing spring,
To bring euphoria and elation,
Filling utter darkness with light.
Often arriving with sweet memories,
To flood our beating, loving hearts,
Enabling us to cherish each fleeting
Moment with wild abandonment.

J M Lysun

The last of your kind

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The last of a kind

 

To be the last of your kind; alone with no one to share your laughter or sadness.
To never hear the sound of others or set eyes on anything remotely resembling yourself.

With only your reflection to remind you of your glorious heritage.
Never to feel the loving touch of someone who could reciprocate your love.

To feel eyes set on you, baffled, wondering who or what you are and,
to see those who still know you glance with shocked expressions;
exuding pity and some even showing contempt as they impatiently wait for your passing.

In their eyes you are no more than a ghost, a fleeting presence,
whose moment in the sun is about to be ended.
To know that they are right and await the passing of the sun and moon,
to bring an end to this aberration that is your life.

To know that your kind were once so numerous,
covering all the corners of your world and
now to be merely a remnant that time will gradually forget.
Not to be mourned and maybe not even to be remembered.

With no kin to note your passing or to shed a tear.
To never again be spoken of amongst the living; merely referenced as a curiosity.
What you feel is beyond loneliness; knowing that there is no one to console you,
no one to claim understanding.

All who see you know your fate and avoid drawing attention to themselves,
less they be next.
You are the only one left to witness an extinction.
All alone, you will shed a tear, not for your parting but for memories you leave behind.
There will be no one to tend for the memories of loved ones long gone.

Already forgotten, you know you will be reduced to dust and be blown away.
In time, you will fade from the minds of others and if lucky,
be condemned to the annals of history; a footnote of what used to be.

To leave this world with unanswered questions;
what fate brought you to this point?
what curse left you alone to witness your own demise in silence?

 

 

J M Lysun

Memories of yesterday

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Memories of yesterday

A heart is broken, that cannot heal.
A dream lost that will not fade.
All because of my memories of yesterday.

A road unwinds to nowhere.
A step taken without direction.
All because I’m lost in darkness and cannot find my way.

A promise made so long ago.
A future painted that will not be so.
All because I’ve gone astray.

A soul now restless.
A world made senseless.
All because I feel I have very little to say.

A heart now empty.
A mind without hope.
All because of yesterday.

Scars of the past in my mind they do last.
Oh, I do pray that they will go away.

 

— J M Lysun —
Copyright © 2014 J M Lysun. All Rights Reserved.