Roots dark, dig deep
and drink the milk
of the river running
through the night like silk
We yawn as the tree
of the universe expands
branching out without
using any hands
Growing like leaves
the stars ignite
a passion to any
beholding their sight
Seemingly they fall
Raked in piles high
We jump in and scatter them
across the sky
And gather them back
from the edge of the yard
for the earth is a ball
in a pile of stars
(October 9th, 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...
