Architect of the words ,
chiseler of breath
beyond afterdeath .
Refiner of ghostly gold ,
illusionist at the edge of twilight ,
a mask that never rests...
Mind adrift in boisterous clouds ,
free from all tides ,
yet bound to the flesh
of an unreachable star ,
stranded in the doldrums of a blank page ,
spectral swirls turning around my messy desk ...
And there,glides too,that veiled enigma -whose visage
is the ash of every love I set aflame ...
- '' who are you ? ''
The voice asks me .
- '' I live somewhere inside ,
and I come from the world over there ! ''
I reply .
A wayfarer who betrayed his own soul .
Pilgrim upon his road of absolution .
Prophet of the craziest gospel .
-'' Why are you trampling on my ground ? ''
The trail asks me .
-'' I have lost myself in so many lives .
Please guide me to that chimeric meadow
of my first dawn ! ''
I reply .
Doctor Roland and mysterious Lorenz .
Healer and strangler ,
voiceless barker ,
lost in my neurotic journey ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2026 11:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
neurotic but most enjoyable journey in this piece my friend
Lord ,forgive him his folly !
If the Lord pleases
I too missed the road sign and have gone too far to turn back. Nicely done Lorenz it gives the feel of lost and turned around.
This first dawn is now nothing more than a fragment of information in a folded -back time ...
Dawn will tell you the direction even if time is folded back. Go west young man.
The journey back to oneself here is far from a beautiful pilgrimage toward the light. It is made of wandering, doubt, returning, mistakes, inner voices, and the attempt to piece oneself together from the fragments left behind.
a puzzle-shaped maze ...
Well, Lorenz...“Prophet of the craziest gospel” sounds like one hell of a job title. 😂 Whatever is happening around that messy desk, I'd say the journey is producing something worthwhile. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
The traveler moves .The pilgrim is on a quest.The prophet claims to have a message to convey-most often that of his own madness.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.