Empty Curse

Voices ring, like horses in
A shelter from the world.
A word to be heard wasn't said.
Branches swing, kites of spring
With winds against flight,
In a sky otherwise dead.
Greens bloom, like painter's loom
Out of the nothing one could see,
Passing stories never read.
Wrinkles spread, like it would they said,
Carry the truth on your face someday,
A death which life led.
Far from life,
On some hill,
Far away,
Its all so great, and all so brave,
All the cheer and plight.