Dead Generations

Dreams hold on a perch
over the living path,
Watching footprints as
they blur in dirt,
Challenged by old and new
and unknown shadows
creeping in from corners,
Colourless breath.

Awakening comes with
empty lungs, shock
sudden and aware,
On a floor by freshly
disturbed tracks as
morning songs call on,
Another race through the
time that is held.

dead generations

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