I stand on the edge,
enamoured.
The poetry of one long dead
reaching out to me through a wormhole.
Taken too early from a world not ready.
His words reach through my chest,
into my soul, pulling out the deepest pains
and the brightest days;
Pulling me deep into the Earth
to hear it's silent song.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:53 PM UTC
I stand on the edge,
enamoured.
The poetry of one long dead
reaching out to me through a wormhole.
Taken too early from a world not ready.
His words reach through my chest,
into my soul, pulling out the deepest pains
and the brightest days;
Pulling me deep into the Earth
to hear it's silent song.
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