Counting time and holding spacesdrawing needles on empty faces
From dusk till the dawn
to the eras bygone
In the books of the mediveal
myths and mystics
todays are starting to look like antiques
The theories of finding,
sense and essence
it takes ages to pass through conscience
Of lost truths and buried lies
doubts that none nullifies
We travel back and forth again
crushed in the burden of our pain
and at the gates where all journeys end
lies the time, bored of routine
It stands still silently and waits
for one more journey to initiate.
From dusk till the dawn
to the eras bygone
In the books of the mediveal
myths and mystics
todays are starting to look like antiques
The theories of finding,
sense and essence
it takes ages to pass through conscience
Of lost truths and buried lies
doubts that none nullifies
We travel back and forth again
crushed in the burden of our pain
and at the gates where all journeys end
lies the time, bored of routine
It stands still silently and waits
for one more journey to initiate.
1 comment:
I had not read this poem of yours till today. I really like how its so profound while being so precise. Absolutely admire the way you pen your thoughts. Hope the New Year brings joy and light, and more prose to your site... :)
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