Closed my eyes
and i could see
what i wanted it to be.
It knows no origin;
It just is.
a beginning
unto itself; and an end
to no end.
I speak of things i feel, so primordial, that structured expression kills the essence. I speak of things i see. so easy to ignore, yet, so crucial I find release in the seeming disorder of my Poetry; the subtle signs i see.
1 smoke wisps:
Nice post
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You whisper your name... but i can't hear it.