Roots

When the sunflowers gather
Around my grave
Let the roots run deep
If only to save
Those eyes of mine; far from free,
Closed forever
Yet willing to see.

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.

9 thoughts on “Roots”

  1. Even your short poems* are like well-articulated essays/articles to me. They have a great depth and many stimulating points, and must be read over and over again to grasp the full meaning.

    *Pardon me for my limited knowledge of poetry forms.

    Liked by 2 people

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