It, the crackling,
Creeping fracture grows, and grows,
Consuming all, whole.
Walking alone, a
Misguided ghost, just one more
magnetic nuisance.
Pouring down, down, down,
The curtain of sleep hangs nigh,
Soothing sorrow holds.
Lovely surroundings
Burn, love surrounding, burns, grows,
Swells, hides away, waits.
An uncertainty,
Without direction, waiting,
Just for acceptance.
Pain behind a pane,
A massive fracture masked by,
Faith and hope, and smiles.
Cracking, Crumbling,
It pours down bare, she tries to
adhere to someone.
Anyone who will listen.
Glass is to be seen through, not to be heard or nature understood.
Yet wants to be nurtured.
YOU ARE READING
2. Looking For What Tomorrow May Bring
PoesíaThis is the second book in potentially what will amount to a series of books over my life. Unfolding the next chapter of life, as things move on forward towards a gateway that brings greater things, things greater than I. I have to stop and wonder...
