silent (Remove filter)
The Divan
I look at myself, and see the abyss
In the mirror, where time slips away
And the cruel emptiness takes me whole
Like a distant echo that life betrays
What is pain, if not a flame
That burns without being explained?
It is a torment that is not mine
But invades me, devours me under the moonlight
The divan calls me, but what is the divan
If not a well, where the soul is lost
In words th...
Thursday 23rd January 2025 4:42 am

Recent Comments
Paul Buchheit on December 11: Mountain Day
24 minutes ago
Jon on Concrete and Narrow
30 minutes ago
Greg Freeman on Christmas in the north
43 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Christmas in the north
1 hour ago
Jon on Concrete and Narrow
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Thank Pickleball It's Christmas
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No.47. No Pasarán!]
5 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Births and Deaths of Cricketers
6 hours ago
Paul Buchheit on December 11: Mountain Day
11 hours ago
Dave Morgan on December 11: Mountain Day
20 hours ago