As kids we pick and touch
Felt paths seen through clutches
Conjecture hints texture
Abstractions living in oceans of much
Feeling along the path
Be it, narrow or wide
We conjecture
Rocky, marbled, or cemented
We decide
All with hands made of
Veins and blood and warmth
Never knowing true perception
Perhaps, in death?
Sliding into the arms of
Glossy dry Death
Laying in the palms of
Mushy wet Earth
Perhaps, then all might be known
Till then
Grasping
Then pinches then diggings then waving
Touching, sensing and clawing at life
Ceaselessly feeling
The yearn ever ageless.
_____
This is an old poem that I forgot about, and recently found. I edited it and here it is.
What does it say to you?
My finals are starting in May. I'm excited.
YOU ARE READING
Emotions
PoetryNote: I'm no longer using this account to post stories, but I'm keeping this book and account up for sentimental reasons. Check out @Snowdrop_Belmont if you like this book! The musings of one skilled at snuffing out their 'bad' feelings with a sigh...
