EVEN as the bleak fields burn,
even as my Soul alone sings;
The feeling of living brings
solace for the poor minds
of my private brain.

AND the memories (the memories)
of many a days that never existed
now wander through the land;
Time a hand, my own lily white
and nowhere to Scream to Scream,
“I am not from here or this Land!”
no gloom
no doom
no room
to die!

:: 01-30-2017 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

You must be logged in to post a comment.

%d bloggers like this: