Being free from fear turns flesh to fire.
Willing, whirling, crashing then obliterated,
drifting into doomed and dying longing.
Guessing, groaning, burrowing in your grace.
Screams sighing into swift, solitary silence.
Together, apart, filled with aching awe.
Desperate, lost in devilish delight.
Immutable, intertwining, injured again.
Maddening moans, magic in a moment -
one, two, millions, a lifetime.
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Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: April 13th, 2021 03:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 44
- Users favorite of this poem: brianna jean zeiger
Offline)
Comments1
erm, I'm a just say - I too, am a fellow lover of words
an intriguing read - certainly engaging and somewhat challenging
and in this warped age of SEO (search engine optimisation) - threat to language, as we know it
possibly a prophetic foreshadowing of what awaits insta poetry's, cultural infiltration
at the bottomless grave of modernity's evolutionary need, for escapism fuelled regression..
(to quote a brilliant mind: 'and that's all I gottta say: bout daaat')
thanks for sharing dear poet
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