I’m fascinated how the colors make themselves appear,
How the animals hunt whatever’s near,
Why the universe is, if God’s a she or his,
Or everything in between.
What’s real or a dream.
If oxygen exists on other planes,
Or alone we are, it’s all the same.
Why the good die young,
Why a pinkish tongue.
Or everything in between.
Life after death? Words before our very last breath.
Whisper this to me, in opened eyes and ears that hear,
The truth and lies, and watery tears,
That cry themselves to sleep, not to gently weep,
But to wake and give the world a shake.
Or everything in between.
-
Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 4th, 2025 11:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments2
What can you believe and what can't you believe? Hard to say. A good write that gets this point across.
Many questions asked and so many possible answers, a nice write around what to believe and what not to, really enjoyed the read
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.