In vain i search. For good? for God?
Through narrow streets of thought -
I weave a path, my throat - a draught,
with curls uncovered, feet unshod
in search of crumbs, frustrated, hot.
This knowledge - life, it can't be bought...
And eyes of lust - not those I sought,
but other eyes, reflecting thoughts.
I chose a silence gently wrought
by eyes that cried a wasted tear,
and force myself to wish for naught...
A dream where only light'll appear?
A steady stream of life's soft rot,
helps to forget whom I revered.
In search of?
© Copyright: Athena, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102063000220
Свидетельство о публикации №102063000220
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