Fading

It is the sorrowful feeling of being diminished,

Like the sirens of the seas,
Crashing down upon the sands never ceasingly,
Carving the canvas of solid sandstone seemingly effortlessly,
Soundlessly sifting the silt and soil of places never seen,
Since the scared seconds of time shown in stories from the sacred scriptures,

Like the frigid winds of winter,
Slowly blowing in the willows of the winding woods,
Whistling wayward whispers in the night,
Waking the waiting widowed owls,
Wishfully wanting to win over the wretched windy woes with their wings,

Like the faint perfume of fancy freesias,
Wafting in the floral gardens,
Forbidden to fight and fence the far powerful fragrance of flaunting foxgloves,
Flurriedly flustering in the foggy farms,
Finding freely flying butterflies fondly fluttering from afar very fine,

Likely listing love as a loss,
Lost in the lips of living fellows,
Lethal towards all life in the world,
Like the legendary lots learnt in fabled legacies long lived,
Lifting lust left in the limelight,
Leaving love largely as lint,
Lies of salacious likes lurking in delight,
Loose lanky skeletons lewdly limping like lethargic lesser lechers,
Letting leers lend lecherous lessons,
Leading lustful larks to their last liaisons,

Death dominates and decides the dawn,
Daftly holding dominion over his domain of dogs and dholes with deceit,
Daringly spreading his doctrine of disgusting creeds and dogmas,
Dark days draw drastically nigh,
Determined disasters and droughts devastate dreary lands,
Darting their demise,
Deeds die during daft decades of dire decisions,
Delicious dames deviously deviate,
Donning drab dresses that daunt damned despicable drakes,
Drowning decadent divinity in a deluge of dismay,
Deliriously defying,
Distorting dirty disputes in the din,

Destroying,

Decaying,

Defeated,

Dead.



By: Kei