Origin
written by: Evelyn
@sanepoet
We live in the small things;
The infinite blackness
Is more vast than the ocean.
We are naught
But a boat floating in the midst.
Not a word to be heard across the waters,
Not a hint of warmth to mask the chill
of the wind.
Riding on the waves,
Going against the flow,
Fast or slow;
No, there isn’t much difference.
Everything gets back to the shore,
Dirtied by the sand, or
Fleshed out by the seagulls.
Things don’t change.
Rivers to bring you home
Streams to cast you off
Cliffs to fall from
Lagoons to hide in;
They will take a bit of you
And alter your senses;
They break you into pieces,
They take your breath away
But we all go back
To where we used to be.
We have to turn still
But move a bit;
We spiral like the ripples,
We drown underneath.
At the center, we meet
The last point to seek;
The start and the finish
At the center, we meet.
I see an immense amount of beauty and destruction in the universe, and I believe that everything has a deeper meaning if we only care to look closer.
I always have a poem waiting in the pocket of my mortal jeans.
- Walking At Night - September 19, 2017
- A Call for Chance - August 28, 2017
- Holding On - August 13, 2017
