#englishpoems #shortpoems
How frail the mind becomes when it must accept, it cannot control their voices. It is I, who release and
Oh, what a looming scream. Rippled through the cast of the soldering blade. Of heroic tasks the elders have made.
He has heard it once, we are primordial sound. These intricacies of being. The complexity of what’s been wove… never knowing as we sway.
A plain of which none know. To a point of singularity; the rays wound tight to transmit. The cusp of all we hold dear, shaping our deliverance from frail…
Know young one, I will not soon forget you. Your transcendent energy shall reassemble, as you continue in eclectic dwelli…
A movement amidst the ripple, reflective of the paradigm. Such an intrinsic placement of motion. The essence
Again— The Door. Last, there was no answer. I cross—
I have to— I have to. From the place I’ve come, to the place I’m going. H
There you sit perched on my sill and yet, you’ve eluded me. Why should you return,
There will be a reason I call to you this day. You’re fate entwined with infernal offerings, summons me to this cause.