Tears and sweat watered the dry and dusty fields
With wings and feathers so distressed and out of strength
Alas! This so called chaos tends to thrive eternally
As passions and dreams become a warm breath leaving the shattered body stony-cold
Where's then the wind that promise a gentle touch
The strong niche that magnifies or uplift the heart of victory
The lovely spring that makes the vegetation blooms
And the light that magnificently surmount the mountain of dreams and hopes
-Will it be a timeless nightmare of the interior world?
-intaglio_azure
YOU ARE READING
Whispering Poetry
PoetryWeaving words, binding them in exquisite art of rumination for its every tune sings the mystery of life...
