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The March Of The Four

Skepticism

Waiting by a bridge
A stranger to oneself
Vision to follow
Distance to endure]
A stream one chose not to cross

Proceeding through waves of time
Away from this moment
Reduced from those to come
As the rising day vanishes
A day that will never be

Motionless on their journey
Close by yet unreachable
Divided to distance within oneself
What once was present but now gone
Once a strong shape a mere shadow

One by onе the lights suffocate
To silencе the voices gravitate
Gallantly proceeding
The March of the Four