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A patch of green Meets the burning red Of my skin, It's morning dew Slipping through my arm- Into the Abysmal Inner-workings Of a soul hidden from view. Blue skies with clouds of white Hanging drearily above my eyes; Gazing hazily at the ocean That is our gentle sky. Perhaps we are like fish- Only we swim with more esteem. Our sentience something profound; Lonely we sit in wait of dreams. They, however, pass us by, Shifting through the cycles of life. From the deepest darkness Until the morning light, Their thoughtless will fuels Their primitive might. So burn out your wick As you thrash about the sea- Exhausted and melting. Whatever fire you extinguish Will let the cool water sink slow. Then the sun will surely rise As it always has: Above us all, through mighty fire. Permit the stars into your life- They will save you from false desire.
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Channel of Sentience
A patch of green Meets the burning red Of my skin, It's morning dew Slipping through my arm- Into the Abysmal Inner-workings Of a soul hidden from view. Blue skies with clouds of white Hanging drearily above my eyes; Gazing hazily at the ocean That is our gentle sky. Perhaps we are like fish- Only we swim with more esteem. Our sentience something profound; Lonely we sit in wait of dreams. They, however, pass us by, Shifting through the cycles of life. From the deepest darkness Until the morning light, Their thoughtless will fuels Their primitive might. So burn out your wick As you thrash about the sea- Exhausted and melting. Whatever fire you extinguish Will let the cool water sink slow. Then the sun will surely rise As it always has: Above us all, through mighty fire. Permit the stars into your life- They will save you from false desire.
Malachite
Written by
26/NB/Seattle
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
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