Rumi (Remove filter)
Creation
As I write, each line reaches for memories
lost, fallen beyond the edge of the world:
kamarupa dwelling in infinity, fading
when my lines do not find them
and my words fail passion and desire.
Eons, lost pasts. Which of them
could dream my frail dream of this
verse? Which, thrown
across the fabric of time, could make
nothing everything?
Wednesday 29th March 2023 3:00 pm
Recent Comments
David RL Moore on Too late too late
32 minutes ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
4 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
4 hours ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
5 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
6 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
6 hours ago
Ray Miller on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
6 hours ago
Ray Miller on The roads taken
7 hours ago