It’s always been different
and always the same
it’s all been anonymous
and all had a name
It’s had no beginning
and having no end
the truth lost in playing
this game of pretend
The magic in giving,
what’s been taken is lost
the price of the folly
exceeding its cost
And we search the horizon
never leaving the shore
the waves ever constant
now as then—and before
(The New Room: January, 2022)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: January 17th, 2022 23:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Eugene S.
Offline)
Comments3
What a beautiful flowing poem.
Thanks again, Draven.
'Riptide: of life...'
just a beautifully worded song
of life's
Sea of majesty and poetic demise..
(Let us, ride high then
upon those waves, of fate
and seek our shelters
in those hillside's, of sand
for as long
as they gift us, that most
perishable of virtues:
Time...)
a lovely read, and thank you
for inspiring my little, scribbled reply
I do love your commenting. Thanks LB.
Kurt
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