Moments call upon eternity,
and an orchestra plays for the empty,
but what becomes of the fleeting beauty?
We become lost in the idea of freedom
Blindsided by the peace that sees us
How does time arrive at its destination
Is its conclusion a despair, or an illusion?
Take your time to ascend past instict
A moment of brilliance within me
I am timeless, forgotten, charmless
I am the idea of one being hopeless,
the idea of two, symphonic wholeness.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Music
PoetryA collection of poems written to soundtracks which are there for you to play.
