Dylan Wyatt
I awoke, one night,
listening to the echoes
of a long-forgotten life.
The air outside sang, one night,
unrelenting to the rest
of the world around me.
A snowflake fell, one night,
falling to the sound
of time passing by unnoticed.
I thought I knew
what the world wanted from me,
but sometimes the thieves of yesteryear
and the saints of today are one and the same
I found, one night,
lying in the forest
of lost dreams and false memories.
The kind words spoke, one night,
fighting in the realm
of truth not found in reality.
A blackbird flew, one night,
flying in the dusk
of the dark fuchsia-filled sky.
I thought I knew
what the world wanted from me,
but sometimes the thieves of yesteryear
and the saints of today are one and the same