
I remember the stories
I was told as a child
Of will-o-wisp in the woods
And wolves in the wild
But only now do I know
The truth of it all:
Only they howl at the moon
Who dare to live without a wall
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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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Very beautiful and evocative
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Thank you my friend π
God bless!
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You’re very welcome
May God bless you always.
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ππ
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β€π
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Splendid.
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Thank you very much, my friend ππ
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