Arms Still Empty


Is it too much to ask of the universe to…

…no wait it has…many many times but I could not see through the lens of rain…
This very moment could be bliss…and yet it is…

…is sorrow a kind of bliss?
So the poet asks and the universe is silent…

…or maybe I am deaf in many ways…maybe I want too much…maybe even the angel would not be enough nor the fearie world?

Just drown in the shallow pool of the seconds ticking by as quickly as rain patters from the skies lay back and close your eyes and dream the dream you saw upon the child’s face who is an old man already in arms empty even while they held another soul…

…my own eyes accuse me…how can I say it was another’s fault when I was there as well helping to fire the pottery of us that shattered from it’s early flaws?

So poets have asked for thousands of years.

What Do You Think?

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