Men once were we,
that now are trees.
Damned for eternity we are,
in a forest of free will
Lost by our own hands,
we grow to fill
a layer of tranquillity in Hell,
a band of peace in inferno.
Men once were we,
that now are rooted here,
as bodies lie still in wormy earth.
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Insomniac's Delight
PoetryThink of it like a story that can be read in any order. Unable to sleep, the poet is transported to a land of angels and demons, and cosmic truths. On their adventure, they visit many strange places like a side walk in the middle of the night, ancie...
