In some blue waves and in the bright shiny wings
To search the wild depth of newly awakened glee;
I can only hear the bruised melodies
Of the coming storm and battles.
The quietude that raises early cries and conquers lonesome tremblings.
The hollowness has blown out; the life's void.
The pages now scribbled with the horror of death.
And yet I want to dissolve in
The far sweet whistling and in my own self.
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A/N: What about some nice interpretations and quick votes? And then, they will get you a whole box of frozen waffles!
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the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||