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The Hunt Begins

The hunt begins where silence

ends, in the active evening

light, where once there was

dreams to hold, and lovers

bliss.

The captive mind as wounds

too harsh to heal, in the light

of centuries, where only tears

fall in vain without a spoken

word.

Echos float among clouds

of white, lingering its cries

among the best, where only

children of today can rule

out each, one by one, without

the mark of innocence.

The hunt begins with prayers

not in vain, with tears falling

with each whisper of the night

when shadows are darken

deeper without question.

Dreams are still for dreamers

cutting out the mystic spells

that control a lovers heart

while only thoughts can make

the hunt end without destruction.

© Derena Bree (All rights reserved)