Meaning
written by: Jack Wolfe Frost
@JackWolfeWriter
I write, I write, my fingers bleeding out words,
Soul aching and striving, looking for meaning,
In a world,
So Crazy,
In a madness,
So real.
How can I, may I, see I… truth – perhaps,
Or in a daydream,
Another reality, there… it reaches, beckons from afar –
Beyond all meaning, it calls,
Beyond all hope, it waits,
Beyond life,
Giving breath again,
To that which was dead.
And no more, no more
Have I fingers of blood.
Jack Wolfe Frost is the Eternal Rebel; he rebels against everything which may have the word “rules” or “behave” within it, whether explicit or implicit. Born in Sheffield, UK, in 1956; he first started writing in 1982, as a hobby--dreaming that perhaps one day he might try and publish something. In his working life, he has enjoyed success in many diverse areas, including running his own company twice. Now older and wiser, he has once again taken pen to paper--looking for conformity to smash and rules to break…
Latest posts by Jack Wolfe Frost (see all)
- Find Me - October 2, 2020
- Is This What It’s To Come? - April 30, 2020
- Death - September 16, 2019
