With matted lashes
and muted cries
she wanders
just outside
With crowded whispers
and voices mean
that in her head
reside
Love seems
a wandering ghost
in a labyrinth
of confusion
Hope
is just a specter
and joy
just an illusion
I've seen her somber smile
that says more
than her words
ever will
I've watched her wandering
all alone
listening to
the Whippoorwill
If the moon
were a mother
with arms to hold
She would wrap
them around
her pent up soul
The merciful stars
would share
their simple light
and she
might then
inherit the night
(August 13th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
