deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Drifter

My life is an empty set
containing shallow words,
numbers which add up to zero.
Every shape and color
is but a shadow of its nature
in the sleepless space
of my existence,
where I chase illusory moons,
transient constellations
of amazement.
Cut off from
the primal ambrosia,
I lose myself
in parallel universes
clogged by clouds
of unknowing,
meaning slipping
through my fingers
like sand
on the shore
of infinity.
Mundus
Written by Mundus
Published
Author's Note
The seeming lack of meaning and purpose which haunts my life.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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