a broken hourglass
leaking away precious time
like sand in the wind
am I the hourglass
or am I a grain of sand
powerlessly bound
real time is precious
only used when time is right
to keep it's essence
reclection of light
can make sand look like pure gold
makes dreams from nightmares
all doubt is futile
life and death situations
are too uncommon
spare your excuses
give me your life and your death
we'll paint together
in a pitchblack cave
a painting can look awesome
but light gives it life
Abonneren op:
Reacties posten (Atom)
love the opening line,
BeantwoordenVerwijderenvivid imagery,
a story well told.
Really enjoyed reading this. It was quite powerful. I know your thoughts were probably so different when you wrote this, but this is what your poem showed me:
BeantwoordenVerwijderenI saw the sun coming up on dark, gray sand and turning it into pure, glistening gold and the girl who lay sleeping on her bed dreamed of being chased by monsters, who instantly turned into beautiful butterflies as the sun kissed her face.
Wonderful....
BeantwoordenVerwijderenlovely.
BeantwoordenVerwijderen