Akin

Let me go
And I shall be
Something akin
To a memory
My flesh it burns
My bones they weigh
The nights are tough
And it’s hard these days
For my soul it wanes
Like wax neath flame
And I know the pain
To always feel the same
Thus there is no way
Where I can sow
A seed of pearl
For a sea to grow
So I shall pass
Through the veil of sand
Alone with eternity
Hand in hand…

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.

3 thoughts on “Akin”

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