Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2015
Born to die, immortal we are not,
dwelling on the past, we descend looking back.
No memories of the womb, a black existence.
The cyclic pattern, a psychotropic dream,
monolithic, no hidden seams.
Climb into the abyss,
another reverie.
Morphic resonance has made the arrival,
another chance bequeathed.
A silent gift of opportunity,  
an experience we don’t recall.
Don’t fret, just live it all.
Morrison Leary
Written by
Morrison Leary  M/Denver, CO
(M/Denver, CO)   
570
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems