Walking On The March

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A trial that is being discover and used, but in reality, never ends.

Submitted: April 29, 2012

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Submitted: April 29, 2012

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Walking On The March 

 

He's walking the street

and they see flashing before their eyes.

As he is walking, his feet are

starting to get numb.

 

Soon the clouds and the sky

will turn to darkness at night

and the clouds will close, but

him and the road will be together

wherever the long trail take him.

 

While the wind is moving past him

and over the corner he 

 a gust of wind run

flowing before him. Like a snake 

we striked on the long, forlorn land,

as we are walking the long trail .

 

In the sky, the low, tired moon starts

to go away, by the poplars the wind

is blowing.

 

In the distance a light is in tow, but

he come's no closer, and he's still

walking on the trail

 

His heart is beating harder and harder, and 

the wind is changing, and he doesn't 

know what he will see next when

he find the place where the dead

trail ends.

 

For he want something to come

ever since he pass and passed

up things in the coiled, convulsive

throes, of this marching, along the

grass on wherever the old trail go.

 

We should come to forgetting perhaps

we shall keep walking until our feet are tire

Let us speed ahead, straight on if we're

going to sleep with that fall forever. 

And lets continue on to where the 

dark trail goes. 

   

  

 


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