We are all blindly grasping in the dark.
None of us know yet who we are.
None of us can see who we shall be.
Blinded in the thrush of flurrying feathers,
Caught in the torrent and stream,
I sensed a hoarse whisper...
Of things unheard and unseen,
Soaking up the tender threads of lunar light--
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Author:
Rose of Sharon (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 15th, 2025 15:38
- Comment from author about the poem: This one has been left unfinished; I tried to write more but the flow of inspiration left
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments3
A sense of the unknown and a feel for mystery, well done.
Thank you soren. This came from a dreamlike state of mind when I was half-asleep, it felt like something profound was on the edge of my consciousness and I tried to express that here
A sense of the body wants to sleep, but the mind has something to say, enjoyed the read
...journey over destination- now there's my kind of viewpoint!
Night folds itself around us, shaping what is yet to come. We drift, not lost, but searching, guided by something unseen.
The sky does not name its wanderers, and time does not set a path— but in the quiet motion of it all, we move toward first light.
🕊️🙏🏻
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