Brick, stacked to the sky
So solid it hurts to touch
Or even look at
Blinding, reflecting wasted dreams
Conscious thought cannot comprehend the possibilities
What may be there, waiting?
May eyes detect it?
Does it exist?
Is it a trick or illusion
Of which we have convinced ourselves?
A wall at the edge of the world
Sheltering us
From the cold void of beyond?
Or might it be paradise
Where men don't kill
And children never starve?
The boundary shouts silence
So quiet I can almost hear
The screaming laughter of girls and boys
And the vacuum of space
All that there may be
All that there may not be
The Empty
The Negative
Nothing so abstract
As the unseen or the unwitnessed
Might it be a place filled
With the souls of the pure
Or the hearts of sinners?
Might it be a mirror
A hungry child starring back?
Might it be infinite brick
Dense and impassable?
Will I ever escape my empty ward of the world?
YOU ARE READING
Nothing I can do...
PoetryThis is the collection of poetry that I've written over several months which I will be releasing in parts.
