Aug 2012
Do not this cold grave open
for the dead should be left
to ponder the silence
of their transgressions
The earth holds no
promise for the living
while the unreachable sky
mocks us with brilliant
hues of vanilla clouded
bliss
I hear the sea calling
from every corner of
my conscious being
Calling and calling
her children back
from the abyss
Yes, the sea is where
we shall make our home
The sea, which gave us life
will be our refuge
The sea...
for the dead should be left
to ponder the silence
of their transgressions
The earth holds no
promise for the living
while the unreachable sky
mocks us with brilliant
hues of vanilla clouded
bliss
I hear the sea calling
from every corner of
my conscious being
Calling and calling
her children back
from the abyss
Yes, the sea is where
we shall make our home
The sea, which gave us life
will be our refuge
The sea...
This is one of those poems that for a while, flows effortlessly from the mind only to stop suddenly without warning. It seemed to me there should have been more but alas, the muses disagreed.
