deepundergroundpoetry.com

                    a           w i s h

   
     
     
a small speck of dust in familar muck    
holds the key to a million riddles    
it blooms into a momentous creation    
laudable and divine at its very core    
far from random and so nearly perfect    
the harbinger of peals of laughter      
and the soft mist of innocent warmth      
     
it lurches out post the eternal float    
from the clandestine yet comforting      
darkness that eventually fills in the    
colour and mass and every single aspect      
that will ever define its existence      
     
its a journey from murky transparence    
to the cold bright chaos of a medium    
noxious boisterous and yet amidst the    
whirling storm there is a serenity    
a moment of profound overwhelming in      
which there is a sound of a shrill cry      
     
thus the eternal cycle begins to move    
it still does albeit in newer paths     
higher terrains alien climates but    
all of these strangely seem familiar    
     
may it emerge unscathed in the end with    
an eternity of beauteous memories that    
glow in the evanescent murk of non-being    
because this is a mere minute fraction    
smaller than your very first sensation  
that you have always known since forever    
   
   
     
     
   
   
*(Old write)
Written by Whitewand6
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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