The least of life shall fade

A Poem by Earl Meek

There is no fear of morning now.
No silent cry to accompany the empty promises and distorted truths
of a once pale and lonely dawn.
There is no clinging fevered grasp of this ragged, bloodied claw.
There are unspoken kisses brought and bought with loves last embrace.

A quiet life that knows of tumultuous frenzy, the loathing that turns to self.
The quiet love hath nothing 'cept virtue, no treason nor hurt is felt.
No silent scream to hurl to night,
just warmth that's full and true.
I lie in dreams, I walk it seems,
with freedom beside you.