From the passing of the trees
His stare has grown ecstatic
All of the night is captured
In in the void of his iris
It is known to him the vastness
Of the forest floor
And among the forest floor
The whole world
The lithe velocity
Of powerful soft strides
Leaping through silky grasses
Is like a race between the great quiet
And a pulsing excitement
The veil of the pupils
Is wide and awake
Images pouring in
Pumping through his very veins
Lighting the heart and catching fire
YOU ARE READING
The Lamentations of an Empath
PoetryTo be an empath is to constantly question your hope for humanity. You learn how to love, to hate, to want, to fear. You learn of the pain behind behind every smile. It is the most heartbreaking and insightful tool to ever exist. Some say it is a cur...
