Discussion in 'Poetry' started by pagansrule!, Jun 17, 2006.

  1. pagansrule!

    pagansrule! Member


    A final longing clings to me, breathing in between my veins, swirling around my thoughts.

    A lone talon dug into the flesh of my mind.

    It threatens resurrection, marshaling the forces of false poverty to its assistance.

    But I must resist it.

    I will not long for the city, whose surface gleams deceptively.

    Nor shall I covet the rolling countryside, whose verdant hills are but Sirens.

    The past shines similarly, making us forget the crisis of those years we long for.

    Though like a vicious cycle, I must long for a life without such desires.

    Unless the path were gone.

    Then I am there now, having never needed to sojourn across a valley, nor ford any river.

    Here and There are one.

    So desire can depart, like mist from a lake in summer.


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