Left in Eternity

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Tags:
  • Birthing Of Stars
    • dragonpsyche
    • is deliberating between sleep and wakefulness...it's quite a conundrum.

    Left in Eternity
    Many winged stars, folding wings like paper for the crisp sound of night
    Far, far, far away
    No hand is seen, but the paint is spread
    Burning the edges of galaxies, waking life to the masterpiece

    Under the mind of the sleepy young
    Our hearts brim with fire
    Our souls burn in song
    Forward and onward the march long begun

    Winds of the black crescent, sighing voice like cold ice across the cold distance
    Gone in the night
    All eyes have seen, that the light has an end
    Eternity breaking, where spirits amend
    Left in Eternity by ~dragonpsyche
    All rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
    Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

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    cmlestrade commented on Left in Eternity

    10-19-2009

    Nicely done. What always amazes be but shouldn't is that each poet has the style that best reflects their abilities and when they find it as you have done you bring joy to the rest of us even if our style is radically different. Keep them coming.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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