Theta

I have danced
Many a dances
Without a song in my mind
And I saw many a chances
Yet pretended to be blind
There were reasons
For these decisions
But those reasons were not mine
I was a stone, sought for statues
But born on an incline
And so I fell down the narrow
Walls, without a ledge
Trapped between tombstones
Out of time, for an age
And now I await in the dungeons
With my heart on the ground
In search of an echo
That can be heard without a sound

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. View all posts by TheHumanAnvil