Why do I drift upon the dream
that drifts in me upon the stream
that flows within a broken place
like the teardrops on my face?
How can the world spin around
the ball that spins in fire bound
that warms the cold universe
where we dance and rehearse?
When will the mountains we see fall
the ones looking down on us all
and rising like such noses high
crushing spirits beneath their sky?
Who is broken and yet can heal
Who breaks this chain and this seal
and drowning pain with a touch
finds the way to reach us?
Here we fall and rise once more
as we ride this life's course
until tomorrow we shall breathe
and deeply here again we dream
(September 30th, 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...
