Don't worry if this poem doesn't seem to make sense, it's not supposed to. That's kinda the point actually.
Nothing is ever as it seems, What is truth, and what is dream,
The difference between smoke and steam
a neverending solid stream.
Impossibility lies in shards,
as the elements fall apart,
molten bone pours out my heart
that always stops but never starts.
The world churns and twists and turns,
broken water starts to burn,
I hope that we will start to learn,
that truth begins in a ceramic urn.
Flowing forests of molten glass,
through fields of blades of sharpened grass,
and the world flows right on past,
until it all is brightened black.
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ReplyDeleteI read it again this morning, Still thinking the same way.
ReplyDeleteThank you
The flow of this was amazing.
ReplyDeleteIn the confusion of what is, what could be and what will be there is a order, in this order we begin to see sense in such chaos and thus the light becomes a ever brighter beacon lighting the path that will be from the choices made by the very choices WE choose to make.
ReplyDeleteGood Poem My Friend.
ANGELUS