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Foresaken Past

Foresaken Past
Copyright 2008 Patti Tillotson

The wind speaks to me in tones most cannot hear

Through spinning molecules of oxygen beating drums in my ear.

The wind tells stories of a patchy fractured past

Pinning them together for a horrid tale to cast.


The wind paints truth in my unsuspecting mind

Of unsolicited memories so painful I must hide.

A maize of shadow notes spewed across the winding trail

Searching for connections that unite this ugly tale.


Yes, a trail of shadow notes seeking weaves of complex lies

Coalescing and illuminating the truth before I die


The wind speaks gently. It sieves all lies

Presenting only truth from which I cannot hide.

It leaves a trail of shadow notes for others to decode

But only if they hear the wind in its most omnipotent mode.


Chaotic search for truth by my unrelenting mind.