Outside from within
Outside from within
The blade protrudes from beneath the cloak, Daggers slice the night
Yellow the glint of eyes in the darkness, Cataract blurs the sight
None are coming while in the forest deep, Alone and cold the chill
Fogs creeping over the root and across leaf, Water collecting under sill
Clouds are gathering over the dry plains, A storm collecting the bones
Drops as large as fists rain across the face, Fallen Kings upon thrones
Bruises form and the open wounds weep, Blood of the heart falls dark
Tight the arms of the caretaker's embrace, Etched into the plaque
Dust from afar carried on the winds of now, To fall down at their feet
Soil it becomes for tomorrow's seeds to grow, Life lived on repeat
A cycle of the world where the largest of trees, Felled with an axe
Nothing left but the rotted stump of memory, No foot to leave tracks
The shores that held back the floods broken, Defenses all but there
White crested waves throwing tantrums, Ignorance without care
The blanked masks of those who judge, From place of false security
Lacking the sensitivity of experience, and the innocent voice of purity
Nothing said or done can ever be taken back, Forever it will ripple out
To navigate the darkened world of the within, Shut the noise of out.
Taraz
[ a Steem original ]
When I read your words I could see a picture
But my mind took away its structure
Now that I have muddled the canvas and the art
So I started reading again from the start
Only to arrive to the same conclusion
That my idea of reading is all an illusion
Even as I read each and every word
I only hear what I want heard
-hashcash
:-)
the masks judge always lack sensitivity and empathy. never know what inside, because they live alone of perception of them same and what inside of them ...
Nice post , amazing photograohy ...
I really like it .
Thanks for sharing @tarazkp
Upvote you .
The poem is just too sensing, with versatile themes on here
Only have a look into that line above on what is being said that will never be up again except if it will rippled out, one just needs to be watching in what we engage our mouth with.
Bruises form and open wounds weep...
You getting enough sleep? I wonder how many of those who judge are pure of way? Experience indeed creates sensitivity and understanding of behaviour and reason. The tracks the foot will leave is in the stump of memory as the vessel will be the soil for the seeds of tomorrow.
What a poem, brilliant