So weighty to perceive that pain of reason -
The one that I am feeling deep inside -
Is just a version of the woeful season,
Where hollowness of “c’est la vie”’s derived.
I wile these moments in the dark, at daybreak,
The sleep loss pin is penetrating me.
So often feel the hugs of throb, and I tweak.
And cannot change for shadowy “may be”…
What’s bringing hope? Guitar reverberation.
I hope for what is destined to be saved.
These sounds are, as before, in navigation,
Like a magician’s words, they flow ahead.
Contain the Divine Principle reflection
A sample of the popular belief,
Instinctive. With eternity abstraction,
Arcane… And with a fond form at the berth.
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline) - Published: December 18th, 2024 01:30
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
I believe the sound of the guitar to be a great accompaniment to this introspective on existential pain. Other sounds would not fit and even jar. I hear it already!
Many thanks, dear arqios!
You are most welcome cellinic 🙏🏻
I've had more than my fair share of such moments .. the guitar & or a mandolin provide but a brief distraction and respite .. a compelling post today cellinic 🎶🎶🎵👍
many thanks, dear Neville!
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