The Meaning of the Stars

It became the moon above the ashes,

I winded sight of the streams that gushed through the glaciers,

And I wander about their blanket of flowers.


Did the sky become bleak for a reason?


To wander about the broken path within the rotting forest of the mind,

To feel sadness down and witness the flames rise from the oceans,

To sit beneath the stars for the comfort of the distant unfeasibility.


To live without a sibilance of faith or mystery is to be alone.


So create trenches in the soil of the battlefield,

Willow beneath the splintered trees,

And sip dew from the branches.


Life begins here.


◄ With Eyes Toward the Sky

I Can't Sleep ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 29th Jul 2017 12:36

You do feel like a kindred soul. I like your total freedom of association and your sense of easy, lovely diction.

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