Feb 2011
we walk alone
our heads down
our pens in meadows
that no one else
has ever explored
we look upward
eyes towards
cloud formations
only known to
giants and gods
If we cry
the water nourishes
our paper, fuels
our muse
and sprouts seedlings
from the hurt.
But when we
die, our page falls
silent.
And this is why
we must always
Keep On.
Keats,
This is For
you.
our heads down
our pens in meadows
that no one else
has ever explored
we look upward
eyes towards
cloud formations
only known to
giants and gods
If we cry
the water nourishes
our paper, fuels
our muse
and sprouts seedlings
from the hurt.
But when we
die, our page falls
silent.
And this is why
we must always
Keep On.
Keats,
This is For
you.
Copyright FHW, 2011
A.N.: After writing this, I dded the last verse...then on a whim, looked up the month Keats passed away. It was February. Moved by the man himself. A tribute to all of us writers whose strength is at their greatest when their worlds are falling apart. <3
A.N.: After writing this, I dded the last verse...then on a whim, looked up the month Keats passed away. It was February. Moved by the man himself. A tribute to all of us writers whose strength is at their greatest when their worlds are falling apart. <3
