Photo credit: henrikla on Flickr.

Written quite some time ago, I find this poem of mine eerily more relevant now than when it was originally composed. And, seeing as I only write poetry for me and me alone, I guess I shouldn’t be in a state of shock and awe over the fact that it “speaks” to me today; however, I am. Shocked, that is. There is no logic in why I was revisiting older compositions. I guess, quite simply, the universe meant for me to read these words again on this particular day.


Wounded souls wander sleepless nights
blindly scanning forlorn faces unfamiliar
with unconscious abandon, hidden hopes.
Smile after solitude smile brush briskly by
with glancing indifference and icy immunity
while unseen the silent quest progresses on -
searching unworthy spirits wasting away,
drowning alone under settled complacency,
lost to the ever encroaching pit of darkness.
Shimmering hints of spark in stealing shade,
souls pursue parallel, elusive, identical souls;
seeking harmony equal and a healing heart.


There is more to come on the relevancy of these words. Stay tuned.

“The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation.” ~James Fenton

1 comment:

"Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?" ~Walt Whitman


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