The restless returns
of the nights we yearned
in the unlearned and unearned
youth we now spurn
are the foundation
building the salvation
of our inebriation
in an escape
to the sensation
of being sure
And yet we die
on the vine
like a bitter wine
in this wasted time
when we could have climbed
the starry staircases
of our better minds
and felt the calm
of the peace
we earned
(August 29th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
