As Dreams Wrought of Air
I am but insanity…kindled fair
A madness, a sadness
A soul stripped bare
A forlorn sod, forsaken by God
As absent of substance
As dreams wrought of air
I have from emptiness come
Of darkness begotten
Scion of a sire, dark and dire…
I am but the essence forgotten
The unwanted presence
The sharp sear to the skin
From the fire
I am but Heaven and Hell
In an unholy mix
Most unsightly enlightenment
Of such unlikely pair
I am magic made tragic
By soul fooling tricks
I am but insanity
…kindled fair…
Copyright © David O'Haolin Whalen | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment