Th' stream o' consciousness flows in me.
I seek that truth, O Soul, from thee.
I behold my belov'd, awe-dreams—
An episode—which every night screams.
My heart's fought through several storms;
My spirit in every rustic realm forms.
Now? Shall I sleep on this dread bed,
When I've ne'er awaken'd for real 'n' felt?
Looking inside me, an emptiness is still there.
O my Cosmos, please give back my left share
—Prishtamir Ⅻ
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Realm of Poems
PoesíaWithin these pages lie a tapestry of English poems, each a whispered reflection on the profound journey of life. "The Realm of Poems" invites you into a realm where words become vessels of serenity, guiding you through the labyrinth of existence. In...
