When the body wishes to flee,
The soul pines for epythymy.
When the relentless cold towers,
The moon longs for the sun's powers.
When the incessant light blinds,
The white yearns that the dark binds.
When the fire burns and scathes,
The ember hopes in water it caves.
When dreams are quelled,
Evanescent mirages are upheld.
The truth may hurt but it is essential,
The moon can't handle the sun, this is prudential.
Lies often help to keep the pain at bay,
The white can't handle darkness of gray.
Wounds can plausibly be concealed but never hidden,
The fire knows for its survival, water is forbidden.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Hello, everyone!
How are we?
Epythymy brings up #50 for Alation! I never thought I could write one single solitary piece that could sound like poetry and here I am, with 50 random thoughts. I believe what I write is scarcely even poetry, I try and you all have been more than kind to appreciate it.
I will not explain this one, this is too close to my heart to tarnish it with any more of my thoughts. This one, I leave to you. Draw whatever meaning you wish to from it. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, if you may be kind enough to share them.
Until next time.
Zoya
YOU ARE READING
Alation
PuisiHighest Ranking in Poetry: #7 "The elegy of silence, The wailing of fate, The panache of death, The din of rage. Will quieten itself, Soon enough, someday."
