deepundergroundpoetry.com
Discordant
In the dreaming season here
my doubt does not become me
the clouds have been adrift for days
does the sun and moon cheer yet?
hear the sweet blue waves cry
like the whisper of distant thunder
dull acres of a dry cracked land
something doesn’t seem quite right
quench me with words of wisdom
may they crash on this distant shore
used to fill this now hollow abode
I have closed my eyes to the world
a planted seed in my wheat field
tell me what will it grow to be?
I await the solitary one to transform
into a forlorn cactus with thorns
in a silent frieze the pale light falls
upon the drought of my conscience
they keep me restless all night long
give no comfort to my Cimmerian cold
my doubt does not become me
the clouds have been adrift for days
does the sun and moon cheer yet?
hear the sweet blue waves cry
like the whisper of distant thunder
dull acres of a dry cracked land
something doesn’t seem quite right
quench me with words of wisdom
may they crash on this distant shore
used to fill this now hollow abode
I have closed my eyes to the world
a planted seed in my wheat field
tell me what will it grow to be?
I await the solitary one to transform
into a forlorn cactus with thorns
in a silent frieze the pale light falls
upon the drought of my conscience
they keep me restless all night long
give no comfort to my Cimmerian cold
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