Prisoner of this other self
avatar of an obscure story
villein or condottiere
magnificent lorenz ,brigand ,
Leonardo and Mozart ,all at once ...
Bowing to the dazzling glow of the east
the angel of god, murmuring ...
A monk on the summit of unapprochable peaks,
but always woman of premonition ,
breastfeeding the child soldier with brutal alcohols .
I am the crystal night exorcist , insane arsonist ,
rag conqueror, exhausted rage ,
my remains frozen two steps from the top ,
poor mineral who aspired to glory !
scribler lost in the mists of time and grave...
Am I nothing more than a passing shadow
in the short summer of multiple existences ?
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 22nd, 2024 08:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments2
Life does seem surreal, and we but shadows. You capture the tortured existence that we constantly question, yet find no answers to. A compelling and yet chilling read my friend. Who are we, really?
Me and my shadows ...
That first line!
Lethal line ...
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