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Of acoustic sunsets And quiet nights. Of the wintery sun And the guiding starlight. Of the communicative silence, And redundant words. Of the inborn poetry In ruins and love. Of the serene sea, And wailing moon. Of the sorrowful storms, And smirking chaos. Of the blank pages And the blue-inked heart. Of the ever flowing poetry Rejected by my stuttering tongue. Of the submissive heart, And a resilient brain. Of the flighty melancholia And staying farewells. Of the paradoxical life, Run by both, fate and free will. Of the endless possibilities, But not a single on of them for you and me.
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
Where does the good go?
Of acoustic sunsets And quiet nights. Of the wintery sun And the guiding starlight. Of the communicative silence, And redundant words. Of the inborn poetry In ruins and love. Of the serene sea, And wailing moon. Of the sorrowful storms, And smirking chaos. Of the blank pages And the blue-inked heart. Of the ever flowing poetry Rejected by my stuttering tongue. Of the submissive heart, And a resilient brain. Of the flighty melancholia And staying farewells. Of the paradoxical life, Run by both, fate and free will. Of the endless possibilities, But not a single on of them for you and me.
OK I know the title does not seem related to the poem at all but I was listening to that song while writing this so..
AthousandMidnightEpiphanies
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
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