If someone is not as he should be
He develops
The reverse Midas Touch
Under heaven
Thunder rolls
Thus the old kings
Fostered everything
With a heartbeat
We cannot lose
What really belongs to us
Even when we throw it away
The gathering winds
Blow through my heart
Reverberating in the echo chamber
Of regret.
---o0o---
2 comments:
This poem really hit me. Thanks for being such a deep thinker and thoughtful person.
S.
Thanks you for that. I wasn't sure about this poem. . .it's a little jagged and a little *ahem* all over the map, but then I started thinking of it more as a sort-of tone poem or just a plain but meandering bit of poesy, painted in blue and grey scumbles on a canvas I bought at the Salvation Army store. Where did that come from?! Anyhow, Anonymous, thanks... .
/jack
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