Stepping outside for fresh air.
Yet knowing how far away
The wilderness hides its face,
I cannot believe the outside is so fair.
Not when I'm here, the walls
That contain mankind's creation
Stand in my way.
I breathe deeply,
I smell the fuel and fire.
I know a barbed wire
Surrounds me. I am not free.
Not here, a forest of bricks and steel.
I cannot see a single tree.
The shade is not from gentle leaves.
The five-story shadow looms.
Can you smell it, the perfumes?
They lie, they are no flower
To grace the flowing hair
Of a maiden, ever so fair.
But that is only in stories.
Now cold rocks profess love.
They are bound in an silver cage.
Humans forget the ways
We used to care, used to pray.
The times are lost, only traces remain
Of ages far away.
We still try, today,
To erase those traces.
YOU ARE READING
Song of Sorrows Past
PoetryA poetry collection focusing on several perspectives of the world around us. Scope and splendor are irrelevant in a world that begs for the peering eye upon every corner of its vast terrain. Society tends to forget that which will endure beyond any...
