deepundergroundpoetry.com

Permeating.

You can find anything if you're looking for something.
You can read everything and hear,
Nothing.
You can listen so intently,
It falls as silence upon your ears.
It's taken years to realise,
To stop chasing fears.
I hear the stillness now,
Feeling the touch of the currents pull,
Edging on calmness,
Poised in transition.
Knowing it always seems to rise,
At once in leaps and bounds.
So before the surface breaks,
The circling reflections ripple,
Retracing the grounds.
It always comes round.
Emotion sings however blessed,
Heart strings can sting and still,
In resonance the chord is struck.
So succinctly, clear and true,
That what to do,
Is to keep doing you.
To find the time,
Take the time,
And trace the ripples of these lines.
Their merged defines of past and present,
Future hopes that taste like some,
Unknown wine,
Lingering despite and over the passage of time.
Permeating flavours beyond the veil.
Whispers of devotions taking flight,
Carried by a doves open wings,
Into some, waiting night.
Be it an afterlife or a resonate,
Portal of ethereal light.
Either and both intertwined,
Within that lingering taste, intact.
Pondering at time,
Being somehow abstract,
And more than just,
A passage or measure of light.
But a stream emerging,
Crossing, looping and swirling,
Permeating,
Every aspect of life.
Fiftysevenhours
Written by Fiftysevenhours (.Quercus.)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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