solemn wind breathing on the empty shore
the whispers sneaking through the sinking sand
my steps leave little imprints on its floor
fading, unlike the carved grooves of my hand
searching within, instead of looking out
reading the stories carried in these hands
their hopes, their fears, their dreams, their little doubts
sculpted by tragedy, from falls, from stands
with my old friends, I shall forge my own path
what's within is what I can't be without
passions needing both diligence and wrath
kindling dreams, to burn away my doubt
For every wall built,
Is another wall to climb
-
Author:
poetboy5454 (
Offline) - Published: October 29th, 2018 18:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
Offline)
Comments2
Keep climbing. We all need to keep climbing. We'll get there eventually. nice poem.
Those walls are always there and as we climb every one our life experience increases our knowledge. Do not let them stop you.
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