A thousand dreams woven
beneath the feet of hard working
reflections.
But nothing ventured forth,
like a corpse of bricked virtues
the land didn't give birth to life.
Only bricks of contemplation were
built, and they were vacant
of any substance. For what is built
had nothing to fill it only ideals.
For earth that shelter one,
will endeavour to show no yield.
And only vacant ideals stand where
crops have faulted on brick..
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
A thousand dreams woven
beneath the feet of hard working
reflections.
But nothing ventured forth,
like a corpse of bricked virtues
the land didn't give birth to life.
Only bricks of contemplation were
built, and they were vacant
of any substance. For what is built
had nothing to fill it only ideals.
For earth that shelter one,
will endeavour to show no yield.
And only vacant ideals stand where
crops have faulted on brick..
