Married to the chaos,
nights of secrets and regret,
dreams of mazes within gardens,
noise and clamor ringing, crashing, burning —
How do we wake from years of torpor?
Where do go to find ourselves?
We must bathe in the prism of a new sunrise,
remembering our missteps and our sorrows,
for these
provide the colors
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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