Staring from serifed eyes of black.
What if, myself, their gaze could see,
Feeling, thinking, who is She?
My heart too, they would peer inside,
What if, myself, their gaze could see,
Feeling, thinking, who is She?
My heart too, they would peer inside,
While into other figure’s minds I pry .
Settled in transient omniscience,
My soul is without defense
As Siren script sings sweet to me
Lulling me, stay, pleasingly,
And take pause between the tales and truth,
To hear the joy of undoings, and sorrows of youth.
Unseen faces will guide my thoughts
To unknown places, I’m called to cross.
Heightened pulse, quiet turn,
How else to uncover these things not learned?
Beside the hearth, I sit content,
Ink Muses read my face now bent.
Caught by voices that could touch my heart,
Or riffle through questions of goodness and art.
All the while the song goes on,
Musings from me are withdrawn,
And while I skim, and dive, and sift,
Through my soul’s pages, other eyes rift.
Sirens seem to quell my cares,
Andintrigue shades the world’s affairs.
Book-cover doors bind my mind’s inward gaze,
Mirrors flicker with each penned phrase.
Could voices unspoken now read mine,
They know, like Argos, what they would find.
As Siren script sings sweet to me
Lulling me, stay, pleasingly,
And take pause between the tales and truth,
To hear the joy of undoings, and sorrows of youth.
Unseen faces will guide my thoughts
To unknown places, I’m called to cross.
Heightened pulse, quiet turn,
How else to uncover these things not learned?
Beside the hearth, I sit content,
Ink Muses read my face now bent.
Caught by voices that could touch my heart,
Or riffle through questions of goodness and art.
All the while the song goes on,
Musings from me are withdrawn,
And while I skim, and dive, and sift,
Through my soul’s pages, other eyes rift.
Sirens seem to quell my cares,
And
Book-cover doors bind my mind’s inward gaze,
Mirrors flicker with each penned phrase.
Could voices unspoken now read mine,
They know, like Argos, what they would find.
Seek me out and find me lacking, or
Blithely equipped for sharp pens attacking.
The story surrounds, calling stories within.
Measure how endings could ever begin!
By the song I’m drawn to traverse this word,
But I may forget myself before I’ve returned.
By these echoed melodies, hear it, and read:
What grows within this sweetly sung creed?
Blithely equipped for sharp pens attacking.
The story surrounds, calling stories within.
Measure how endings could ever begin!
By the song I’m drawn to traverse this word,
But I may forget myself before I’ve returned.
By these echoed melodies, hear it, and read:
What grows within this sweetly sung creed?
No comments :
Post a Comment