Toward morning I draw the first words
From the place I came yet cannot return
As night crawls back to the hills
Pain is a bright room
Lit in florescent
Here the needle is turning
I wish for the waking of other worlds
The stars are all broken
The ghosts of time pass through me
My eyes are waiting for me in the dusk
I feel my way toward them
I'll find my name written in dust,
There again, I will meet it.
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 12:46 AM UTC
Toward morning I draw the first words
From the place I came yet cannot return
As night crawls back to the hills
Pain is a bright room
Lit in florescent
Here the needle is turning
I wish for the waking of other worlds
The stars are all broken
The ghosts of time pass through me
My eyes are waiting for me in the dusk
I feel my way toward them
I'll find my name written in dust,
There again, I will meet it.
I had to rewrite this from memory. I hope someone will like this short poem..TJ Struska