Fie for Thought
Monday, June 08, 2009
 
She walks through the mist, thoughts filled her consciousness. Would it be delivered by the hand of fate? Ravaging through lost memories, in hope to find a clue. Neither light nor shadow can she find that object of obscuration. The mist avoided her, as though the flow of river around an obstacle.

"How thy seek thee, for thy be damned caitiff."

Pleas fell on deaf ears, they say. Hardened stones, stubborn beliefs. Plea she did, for heavens forgiveness, unknown and not actuality. Unavailing, wander upon endless lands, seeking amnesiac miracles.
  8:53 PM




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