An Empty Field

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  • Philosophy

    An Empty Field

    I waited an instant
    Before being before becoming
    A morsel for this world’s tasting: this not-to-be
    Has its being as a bearer of beliefs
    Standing in a barren field, tumbleweeds
    Stacked against barbed wire fence
    And the distance too far
    To run to catch the sunset

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    elnath’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Talking with Atheists 0
    In a Garden of the Apocalypse 0
    An Empty Field 0
    Thunderstorms 1
    A Geology of Weather 2