this life unsown

under gray sky,
far removed,
hungry,
staggering,
a single life moves.
a single life turns
so quickly,
it goes unnoticed
and drowns upon itself
before us.

every step
has led it to where it stands -
every stumble
sets it back a million miles
on blackened land.

the crow caws
atop
a barren tree.

the life drives forward
through mists
of sanity,
glancing from slumped shoulders
and bone protruding chest,
parting smoke on its passage
to unknown journey's end.

skulls fastened in soil
crack under slight
footfalls
through this rummaging sleepy fog
and into the void
deprived of light.

and how the life cries
like the cawing crow
upon deadened branch,
atop a tree that may never have lived
within this life of chance.

and how the life sings
of sacred nights
when the mist has but blinded it
in dense thick.

and how the life troubles
over lost minutes
and tender kisses
that never were.

the damp seeps through
to the bones,
thus travels this traveler
to places unknown.

in the garden of
tried temptations
and gleeful gray,
life wanders
its spirit away,
purged of capacity
and sanctity,
it wanders free this way

across the fields of bone
where the gray parts impetuous;
fragments never shone,
the exile treks glorious,
forever alone.

the life staggers
and falls
upon the spent ossein,
no longer pliable
in brittle bright
as the sun shows through
foggy plight
upon corpses
ground into earthen delight.

the life raises its hand
once more
as if asking reprieve,
as to settle the score
of life naught tempted
forevermore.

nothing harbored.
nothing gained.
this life thus labored,
purely in vain.

the clawing clutch
of death and dire -
mattered as much
as smothered fire
from embers blown
through destiny
unknown,
blown forever higher.

all for naught
so reaps the seeds
unsown.

and the traveler
remains unknown
in this life;
never shown
like the bright burning sun
which burns away
such brittle bone.