They call me selfish,
because I have no yearning to see the horizon.
I see everything at sea level,
hatred has no place here,
not when tsunamis devour everyone.
Yet I crave to caress the face of the sun.
To know her heat,
to discover her hums.
The chains binding me to the ground cut off my circulation,
enclosed around my neck.
I am trapped by the human aptitude.
Collared by the frustrations of my past.
I am a bird doomed to hit a window.
Unable to know what I cannot touch,
unable to know where I cannot go.
I touch the stars through my outstretched hand.
Divinity a reach away,
narrowly missing my fingertips.
I desire futility because it's easier to want everything.
Like the heavenly body,
and it's mellifluous songs,
than to gain an out of reach embrace,
a nonexistent hymn.
Because I am small and foolish in the eyes of you and me,
and the world at hand.
YOU ARE READING
Coherence
PoetryThis is a poetry collection that is both ever updating and ever changing. This collection of poetry isn't exactly traditional or ever a solid complete piece of prose, I am ever adding and changing and morphing them into something I feel is better or...
