We live in solitude,
under false pretense.
We live in a house of circumstance,
flimsy and misshapen.
Built not for comfort nor beauty,
but as a frozen moment in time, primitive in existence.
We made it with mud and stone,
a impossible combination of ignorance and prayer.
And we built this house of mud and stone,
to weather the storm made by beasts unknown.
The sky is cruel, the sea is ignorant
and the earth cares not for you and I.
So we built this home by two hands with scars,
and callouses from building it up brick by brick.
But hear my cry, beware my warnings!
I beg of you please,
please don't hurt my home of weak, my home of poor,
my home of eternal sleep!
My home of darkening dusk, of rising dawn, of burning stars!
Do not bring solitude into the night, do not bring solemn words of goodbye!
This house was made to protect us from the outside, so don't bring in your dripping words of disconnection and fear into the firelight.
I beg of you to keep peace!
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...
