Monday, July 28, 2008

Fragments of Healing

where I am, the edge of oblivion

blank, empty stare

you carry it in the palm of your hand

delicate music-maker, this filler of hours

without art, I couldn't imagine living

blank, empty stare,
its simmering anger boiling at the edges

that I see on your face
I know the edge

come back to those who love you,
love

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous1:34 PM

    This Poetry conjures images of a shoreline on the sea or standing amidst an endless meadow.

    Profoundly.

    Blessings~

    ReplyDelete

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