They cut my palms from wrist to middle finger
tethers that were my formation of all were
sacrificed for there gratitude for my sight was
not to be formatted into a form there eyes to yield
A difference of consciousness and so my embodiment
of creation was but word and thought.
But I knew if I was too breach the wind. what could not
be penned though even many had blossomed from
cognitions of knowledge. these seeds of enlightenment
would be severed from the root. I would be
a mute as the clear sky nothing but wisps of
colour but nothing seen or heard.
I am a poet a drawer of creation either malignant
or statuesque, Words that could open a thousand
doors in the subconscious or unbar that singular one
that could enlighten the world. But alas I am
of a place where my thoughts are but a jest that would
be expunged from others minds.
"I linger in infinitely, but I am but a grain falling for a moment,
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
They cut my palms from wrist to middle finger
tethers that were my formation of all were
sacrificed for there gratitude for my sight was
not to be formatted into a form there eyes to yield
A difference of consciousness and so my embodiment
of creation was but word and thought.
But I knew if I was too breach the wind. what could not
be penned though even many had blossomed from
cognitions of knowledge. these seeds of enlightenment
would be severed from the root. I would be
a mute as the clear sky nothing but wisps of
colour but nothing seen or heard.
I am a poet a drawer of creation either malignant
or statuesque, Words that could open a thousand
doors in the subconscious or unbar that singular one
that could enlighten the world. But alas I am
of a place where my thoughts are but a jest that would
be expunged from others minds.
"I linger in infinitely, but I am but a grain falling for a moment,
