Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Dusk till Dawn

Rain,
Relentless it would start again,
As night fell,
I start to wonder if i should write a line,
full of agony and pain,
or a subtle word or two about the woeful rain,
as if i would never see the stars another time,
as if my words would never rhyme,
Pain,
As if it would start again.

Although the rain had stopped pouring,
And the trees have stopped roaring,
with equivocal meaninglessness,
The restlessness in their wavering leaves,
tremble amidst the light-less skies.
Like my countless flight-less tries,
to write a line or two,
about the glee in the light-less sky,
about the meaning in 'em cloudy nights,
of playful serenity,
of wonder and awe,

Happy, i tug my blanket,
and soak in the hues of the cold breeze,
that harrowed through the window i left open,
For the light of my shaky night lamp,
to pass through, and
..let me see the dawn afar.

6 comments:

  1. I love your title, girl.

    You're a writer? Cool shoes. Me, too (kinda, sorta). I know for a fact, however, you gotta whole lotta intelligence behind those two ears, girl; thus, I wanna give you my finite existence: to intrinsically value the Great Beyond which I’ve learned to appreciate, to visualize the fundamental reality of infinity is why I‘m here for a teeny-weeny amount of time. Looky here...

    Precisely why I had our ‘philanthropic + epiphany’ (=so much to give + vision): wanna see a perfectly cognizant, fully-spectacular, Son-ripened-Heaven?? … yet, I’m not sure if we're on the same page if you saw what I saw. Greetings, earthling. Because I was an actual NDE on the outskirts of the Great Beyond at 15 yet wasn’t allowed in, lemme share with you what I actually know Seventh-Heaven’s Big-Bang’s gonna be like: meet this advanced, bombastic, ex-mortal Upstairs for the most juvenile-lip-service, ultra-groovy, picturesque-paradox, pleasure-beyond-measure, Ultra-Yummy-Reality-Addiction in the Great Beyond for a BIG-ol, kick-some-ass, party-hardy, robust-N-risqué-passion you DO NOT wanna miss the sink-your-teeth-in-the-smmmokin’-hot-deal enveloping, engulfing our catch-22-excitotoxins. Cya soon, girl…

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