Upon walking upright,
Our hero trampled the sleeping.
And, upon dawn's early light,
He could not keep from weeping.
For, he was but a man.
And, as his world of labyrinths grew.
Blood, like a river, ran
Until our hero flew.
©JWJ2022
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The Perpetual Array
PoesíaIt's just some poems I wrote to help me make sense out of what, at times, feels senseless. They don't all rhyme but there was a reason for every one of them. I hope at least someone can make some sense out of this humble collection, which will und...
