From June 2016
Me and my scribes hands
Me and my eyes
Writing out truths
While spitting out lies
I cannot explain it
I might as well try
I feel like I'm falling
I know I could fly
I cannot contain
The things in my brain
I keep analyzing
Yet I don't know why
I act this way
When roads they change
I just keep on tripping
And stumbling by
Do the birds hear me as I can hear them?
Do the roots feel me and call me a friend?
Do the clouds roll?
And break wet and cold?
And wash away all of the dirt
Shrouding sense?
Does the sky cry when
Stars fall from the night?
Are things truly made
Of darkness and light?
We have to fall
To feel the call
From deep in our souls
Which brings us to life.
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Pagan Poetry
PoetryPoems about Paganism, nature, spirituality, mythology and subjects regarding matters similar to these. Not all of these poems will be mine, but if I use a poem of someone elses I will make sure to credit them and make sure I have permisssion to use...
