There was a girl,
She’s gone now,
Who lived and breathed
Imagination and life,
(Aren’t they the same thing?).
She saw the house down the street
And thought it a monster
Never that it was replete
With the emptiness
An innocent bungalow will foster.
Air was to her
As glass water that sings
About its giggling spring
And she would awaken
At its dance upon her skin
As she breathed it all in.
The air is now
As water, grey like mercury,
That dampens what the eye can see
And it is chagrin
That is awoken
At a world so forsaken.
Nietzsche was mistaken
When he proclaimed
Our God as dead.
It’s the vision and
Stories for which we used to aim
That expires instead.
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 12:29 PM UTC
There was a girl,
She’s gone now,
Who lived and breathed
Imagination and life,
(Aren’t they the same thing?).
She saw the house down the street
And thought it a monster
Never that it was replete
With the emptiness
An innocent bungalow will foster.
Air was to her
As glass water that sings
About its giggling spring
And she would awaken
At its dance upon her skin
As she breathed it all in.
The air is now
As water, grey like mercury,
That dampens what the eye can see
And it is chagrin
That is awoken
At a world so forsaken.
Nietzsche was mistaken
When he proclaimed
Our God as dead.
It’s the vision and
Stories for which we used to aim
That expires instead.
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