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| | Are We Gods? |  | | | Are we there yet? ...what about now? | | |
Ashes through wind, crude thoughts I can’t steer
for now I’m still here, for death I’m not near
tomorrow I feel, my love, I cannot but fear
the days are not counting for days I’m not clear.
On dreams I am free, my wings are not hidden
on dreams I cannot but see, eventfully driven,
wounds in the closet, and ghosts that reflect
I’m frantically gasping, I’m less than a wreck.
More waves and some more, silence and voices
my love I have lost, my life can’t be choices
I’m panting ,endorsed, I’m endlessly choking
I’m meddling with evil, I’m shaken ,not shaking.
Oh what’s just and what’s broken
what’s life and what token
of gratitude lies, and that truth it denies
I fear it’s misspoken.
Oh what’s love and what’s hatred
what’s death and what’s mended
our god’s in despair, its soul is not fair
I feel it has ended.
What pain ,what sorrow, will come on the morrow
roots of my tree ,you’re just ,you’re just hollow
and a figure of speech will embark on my place
like stitches on leaves which enclose my last days.
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monajia
08-03-2011 @ 00:04 | What pain ,what sorrow, will come on the morrow
roots of my tree ,you’re just ,you’re just hollow
and a figure of speech will embark on my place
like stitches on leaves which enclose my last days.
::theos.:: ::theos.:: ::theos.:: | | Ναταλία...
08-03-2011 @ 04:57 | ::up.:: ::up.:: ::up.:: | |  |
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