Cross dreary eyes, does a silver sky yet sing; unbound and tireless.
Not seeing is not being, intuition or happenstance; grounded by patterns.
Fingers reaching longingly for a solitary thing, yet no truth does it bring.
Wanting, ne'er finding, wayless.
Purh lufian wit faellan, wea fylgan...
(Across love we fall, sorrow follows...)
Circumocular cupidity; near sighted
Passionate stupidity, wry serendipity.
Not without feeling, pariah befallen by choice. Still bound to patterns.
Fingers out reached t'ward nothing.
No smile, no kiss, no hand clasping.
Wanting, ne'er learning, wayless.
Purh lufian wit dufan, næfre faellan in.
(Across love we dive, never falling in.)
YOU ARE READING
Blank Spaces
PoetryAn emotive journey through the empty places we visit but never want to see. The pain, the heartbreak, trying to see hope in places there may be none. And the secrets, and yes there are always secrets. Can you see them in this dark empty space? So it...
