Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2023
Amongst the tattered cathedral,
weathered chipped stone facade, scared by time.
Spires reach skyward like ancient fingers around me,
On my knee's at the pew,
I pray to god,
Pray for love,
Pray for an ear,
Pray for someone to just listen. .
Take me in your tattered fingers,
Pull me from the nightmare of my mind, save me from this weakness.
Longing to drown, only to breathe.
Longing to swim, only to sink.
Longing to fall, only to fly.
dull frescoes of angels, corrupted by cobwebs judge me.
There is no sound, only the hushed reverence unspoken.
Under lofty arches, my pleas are but echoes of weakness,
longing to die, but afraid of death.
A Poet
Written by
A Poet  The Moon
(The Moon)   
115
   Pradip Chattopadhyay and NAN
Please log in to view and add comments on poems