Envoi

Tommorow our sacred symbols;
Vacant spaces, holding together,
The meaning of purpose,
Shall be noiseless markings,
Etched unto stone, to be buried deep in time.

Tommorow, shall we be,
Fair to such fortune,
Left in the ungainly hands?
Will it suffice to savour,
The moments, when what cometh,
Never comes, and what passes, never stays.

Will the new breed of soil,
Not vie to dig,
The bones of kingdoms long lost of love,
And bite hard into its marrow,
To taste what once stirred our souls,
And fired our flesh.

If not then what have we done,
If yes then what did we do,
For who shall ask of the sun,
If what we have is false and what we had is true?

Tommorow we all shall be forgotten,
Forever and ever, till all we hold clever will never be seen; Stonehenge, Babylon, Apples of Hesperides,
Pyramids, polka dots and everything in between.

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.

2 thoughts on “Envoi”

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