That death would come at last to me
Is knowledge hidden not --
'tis when my soul could truly flee
This common mortal lot.
But when it comes, I wish I can
With it, a fire ignite
That, though I wouldn't come again
A gift would prove, my light.
I want to briefly blaze the sky,
And be a dreamer's guide
By which new aspirations fly
Across the old divide.
And so, I wish that if my song
Be drowned while yet I live,
The echoes here shall linger long
As lessons new to give.
YOU ARE READING
Read my Eyes
Poetry“The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, and tells a tale it never feels; deceit the guilty lips impart, and hush the mandates of the heart; but soul’s interpreters, the eyes, spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.” (Lord Byron) Probe mine. Tell...
