Do you ever get that feeling?
That inexplicable divine stirring
boiling over and bubbling deep down
some place inside of you
that's existed much longer than you've been alive.
I can sense my eternalness in the words I write,
each meter is a measure of forever.
My pen against the paper, etching ancient magic,
imbuing the page with my essence for the rest of time.
I can feel my divinity in the parables I pen,
the images so vivid in my mind and then transcribed.
I describe my soul in detail, a foray through long-forgotten memories,
a trip into my tempestuous thoughts.
Do you ever get that feeling?
That there's no limit to what you can create
with a rampant ranting imagination that's
boiling over and bubbling deep down
some place inside of you
that's existed since time itself.
YOU ARE READING
Herban Poetry
PoetryA small but ever-growing collection of original poetry from the mind of a 19 year old pothead. This is home to a large range of thoughts, feelings, and ideas that cloud my head in poetry form.
