Spirit's Ladder
Trapped beneath a ceiling full of stars,
My mind clings the contours of space;
I breathe misty air above the rat race -
On which I am waging a secret war.
As a neighbourhood bum plays the sitar,
And an inner town road zooms with cars...
In the mystery of poverty, beneath the rags
Of luminosity, where twilight softly sags...
Above the monotony - I scale a different bar.
Some folk think that I am sunk far below,
But to my eyes, their whys seem hollow...
Farewell, restless panic – bile begone!-
This chilly winter night is filled with song.
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Author:
Dr.Mad (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2019 10:22
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by my time in Brighton, 'sleeping beneath the stars'.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Goddess of the Mist
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