Looking through the glass
panes of crystalled dew
one lone flame flickers,
illuminating a far-gone sketch,
a shadow, that once I knew.
Fragile as the glass about,
dark, hauntingly, helplessly true.
A shadow reflects proportions, basics,
outlines, disregarding nuance.
A person fills the outer shell,
residing within, one heaven,
one hell.
'Tis the way of souls to work,
be it torment, be it bliss;
thus envy no being, who lives their life,
a shadow, such as this.
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Author:
benevolentbluebabe (
Offline) - Published: July 10th, 2020 08:22
- Comment from author about the poem: I sometimes feel like a shadow of my former self.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
Enduring a similar existence here. One wonders if we are returning to the egg, preparing to be reborn? How long before helplessness sets in?
Ah, the feeling of helplessness may be here already, but this does not mean we must succumb completely! Perhaps rebirth will come, and soon. Torment cannot endure forever, and we cannot remain empty.
Maybe it's simply a wake-up call—to find new interests, new people, to reinvent oneself.
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