I’ll die of the grief, guilt and regret that i carry in my heart…it weighs heavy on me and swallows me whole.. I try to lift it up to run from it to forget about it but it always finds me…it lurks around the corner in the dark waiting for me. It has become a ghost that’s haunting me forever and waiting for the day I give up and let it consume me.
Tag: Wordsworth
The Quiet Breath of Landour
In Landour’s cradle, ‘neath skies soft and pale,
Where mountain winds weave an untold tale,
The pines stand sentinel, steadfast and true,
Their whispers like sonnets in the settling dew.
The earth here breathes slow, in a rhythm divine,
A pulse that stirs both heart and mind.
Each leaf, each stone, speaks of quiet grace,
A hymn to the artist in this sacred space.
The mists unfurl like thoughts left unsaid,
While clouds kiss the peaks, where angels once tread.
Oh, Landour, sweet muse of the wandering soul,
In your still embrace, I’ve found myself whole.
Like Wordsworth’s wild hills, your slopes softly call,
And Keats’ yearning odes in your shadows fall.
In your tranquil arms, I’ve learned to be free—
To dream, to create, to simply just be.
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