The open gates tell me I must stay
or be devoured by the lightning ray
The flowers do sprout in the springs of May
only to dwell by the end of the day
Why did you take a different turn
in hopes of getting back?
Headed to the point of no return,
you've bleached the mirthful black
I can't keep up with your speedy pace
that's blinded by beauty, salvaged by grace
There's only so much that I could erase
the only exception is your face
On shallow waters, you've hidden something
whereas every ship mysteriously sank
Spheres will always withold a 'something'
For now I see, it's not as blank.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 1:04 AM UTC
The open gates tell me I must stay
or be devoured by the lightning ray
The flowers do sprout in the springs of May
only to dwell by the end of the day
Why did you take a different turn
in hopes of getting back?
Headed to the point of no return,
you've bleached the mirthful black
I can't keep up with your speedy pace
that's blinded by beauty, salvaged by grace
There's only so much that I could erase
the only exception is your face
On shallow waters, you've hidden something
whereas every ship mysteriously sank
Spheres will always withold a 'something'
For now I see, it's not as blank.
© Cyrille Octaviano, 2017
The reverse of "Nothing"
