We're only what our dreams have made us
We're lonely stars or burning suns
We're drunken memories of others
And always sadly on the run.
Were angry flames and stormy seas
always drowning within each other
Feeding with lust our need for love
But always with a different lover
We're always close and yet so far
deceitful shores on the horizons
Not realizing we can't cure
the hunger of the inner lions
We keep forgetting who we are
or what we want or what is real
Bur dreams are dying in the end
and we're at last ready to feel.
(But dreams are fading in the end
Reality is here. Feel!!)????
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Author:
roudan (
Offline) - Published: August 14th, 2017 21:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments1
Sex as the be all, end all to our being and identity is the greatest deception ever lived - yet our culture still places it at the pinnacle of the lived experience. Much carnage in the wake of this failed, sexual revolution and your poem strikes that nerve. See the Ruth Institutue for survivor stories and a better way...
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