whether we regress or grow
with gradient change as e'er obscured
it depends on what we show
streaming like a thought at night
on the sea, across the sky
stream until there is no blight
cast upon our far-flung eyes
formless fears tear at the veils
the happy scenes we mark
a thrush insists the night prevails
whilst we await the lark
would that we could now away
from that which weighs us down
politics, the world, the fray
affliction morphs with every round
it feels within as if we've grown
from what we were before
the space traversed from vague to known
the other side of doors
once marred and barred to what we would
amend as rifts within reality
the vast expanse at which we stood
ideal and form's duality
as e'er this is as stagnant moving
unto some vapid dissolution
we bleed the hours eternal proving
what's come of one more revolution
around the
sun
No comments:
Post a Comment