deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Words Strewn
The sky was once stained
with vibrant colors, a light
pierced through the surface
illumining the words inside.
Even with closed eyes, I
would discover them as
they fluttered around me
matching the rhythm
of your voice, ending
in a glowing embrace.
But the voice has gone silent,
as each hour dissolves
from present to past.
A crack, that started small,
has grown, tearing me apart.
The sky is now choked off
by rotting clouds.
The colors muted,
the words strewn,
ripped away by a tempest
and with it my muse.
Without words, I shall wither.
with vibrant colors, a light
pierced through the surface
illumining the words inside.
Even with closed eyes, I
would discover them as
they fluttered around me
matching the rhythm
of your voice, ending
in a glowing embrace.
But the voice has gone silent,
as each hour dissolves
from present to past.
A crack, that started small,
has grown, tearing me apart.
The sky is now choked off
by rotting clouds.
The colors muted,
the words strewn,
ripped away by a tempest
and with it my muse.
Without words, I shall wither.
Published 12th Feb 2019
| Edited 3rd Sep 2020
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Anonymous
12th Feb 2019 2:34pm
Those words express the pain we have gone through then and there...
It's nicely written
It's nicely written
13th Feb 2019 1:23pm
12th Feb 2019 4:20pm
Relatable spill --
and I've experienced this more times than I would have liked.
and I've experienced this more times than I would have liked.
13th Feb 2019 1:24pm
12th Feb 2019 8:50pm
13th Feb 2019 11:36pm
The loss of a muse is always felt, for any circumstance.
You have expressed it will in this write.
You have expressed it will in this write.
Anonymous
15th Feb 2019 11:07pm
<< post removed >>
I hear you Charlotte. Over the slow progression of seconds which seem to slip by with curious speed, as we lose our focus on the passage of time, I have learned to grow comfortable with the long silences between my writes. We are in a continual state of transformation. Within a tree, there are rings within rings of growth. Look upon each of these as a cocoon that once held a slumbering form, dreaming of the form to be. We are born with innocence and peace. As we collide with the world, losing both, we eventually develop patience and wisdom, and if we so choose, rediscover peace. Namaste.
Daniel
Daniel
