deepundergroundpoetry.com
Finality
Much Chaos!
No ethos.
Wanting asylum!
Wanting phylum.
A language, languishing, seemingly marring the meaning.
Stillness, on the edge, of a sphere spinning, dangerously careening!
Such vastness!
The fastness!....
Of on coming stresses....
Sleep interrupts the anguish, but it yet progresses.
Time never waits.
But it's the long, longing that grates.
Where is finality, dare I ask?
Or is greater the sanctions, of an undone task?
Does mercy ripple in a cerise lake's reflection?
Or has every body, been drained of all affection?
No ethos.
Wanting asylum!
Wanting phylum.
A language, languishing, seemingly marring the meaning.
Stillness, on the edge, of a sphere spinning, dangerously careening!
Such vastness!
The fastness!....
Of on coming stresses....
Sleep interrupts the anguish, but it yet progresses.
Time never waits.
But it's the long, longing that grates.
Where is finality, dare I ask?
Or is greater the sanctions, of an undone task?
Does mercy ripple in a cerise lake's reflection?
Or has every body, been drained of all affection?
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