| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
The words, they come
Just past midnight
When I'm alone
In yellow light
That beams on me
And whispers lines
Of truth for me
To then make mine
In beauty I
Have come to hold
As powerful,
More than the old
Riches man finds
And clings too still,
As if that could,
As if that will
Satisfy them
And what they seek;
They crave a joy
They've been in need
Of for too long,
Too many years.
I've found it now;
I've found it here
In words I write,
These stories told,
Deeper than lines,
Richer than gold,
Special to me;
I can't describe
How they lift me;
They let me fly
When all my fears
Are coming true
And I have no-
Where to turn to,
Words are my friend;
Words are my soul;
When I can't rise,
I ride on the should-
Ers of their forms,
The truths they speak;
I don't know why
They strike through me
In such a way
I can't explain,
Can't wrap around
It in my brain.
There's something there
I long to see
And understand
More completely,
But if I can't
Ever make sense
Of what has made
My words so dense
And rich in truth,
Full in meaning,
I will still have
Strength I'm gleaning
When I write words
And make them mine;
That's all I need
To always find
ESTÁ A LER
Ambition: A Poetry Anthology
Poesia| | | | | | | | | | | | Ambition is like a drug. Addictive, fueling, consuming. It calls to us. Once we've tasted its glories, all we want is more. It brings us highs that collapse into lows, carries us to heights only to drop us off the edge. Ambi...
