Request



Await me on the other side

Of the ocean which shivers with every wave,

Of the wasteland that whistles with each shadow.


Await me on the other side,

Beside mountains which wail their solace,

When they cannot turn and see for once,

The sun rise afore their back.


By the brambles that flow inwards, 

You shall find my voice draped in ornate canopy,

Reading to your weary ears,

The lullabies long forgotten,

From the feeble cast of mind.


Await me, 

Between paths torn asunder,

Neath moon guiding with silver hand,

To a land long lost amidst the tide,

Of memories piled upon,

Hands defying time.


Await me, friend,

So that we could journey together,

Laughs striking the midnight blue,

In search of smooth pebbles,

Treading sands with steps anew.


Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

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