Sinking deep
in flesh and bone,
I can only cling
to the sinews of faith
to keep myself awake.
What I desire is buried
not solely in needles nor smears of ink
but in the rapture, the jubilance,
the reckless vigor that it yields.
Gracefully, it dances
along the outline of my being
rhythmically
imprinting thoughts
never spoken -
of courage and passion,
of triumph and empathy,
ideas which
I never had the chance
to utter
to the ones I hold dear.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
Sinking deep
in flesh and bone,
I can only cling
to the sinews of faith
to keep myself awake.
What I desire is buried
not solely in needles nor smears of ink
but in the rapture, the jubilance,
the reckless vigor that it yields.
Gracefully, it dances
along the outline of my being
rhythmically
imprinting thoughts
never spoken -
of courage and passion,
of triumph and empathy,
ideas which
I never had the chance
to utter
to the ones I hold dear.
