words beckon to me, nay-demand my attention
they purl in paroxysm begging interview
is it not true that we are a river destined to run an immutable course?
what then is the purpose of purpose?
an inclination to be apart from that which moulds us
I search the heavens from my star apart
and I am lost in the desert sands
my arrival to wisdom was opportune
for it began with ardor
but it lies in squalor, untended and incomplete
I hear the name in the echo of hollows
a haunting whisper in the forlorn wind
a wish from a world without, where like-tributaries splice
subjugated in a metropol yonder
silence holds my woe, perched on an eminence of privation
my chains atug-wishing to board a barge
to transverse this atlantean expanse
the destination an abode long wished for
whereupon dwells my odyssey's fair accolade
photo by magnusvk
http://www.flickr.com/photos/magnusvk/166233536/sizes/l/
Comments