Zen Mode
feral ripple in space
though invisible perhaps
blood trace on God’s face
marking our soul’s disgrace
alone
we atone
as of soul’s choice
the seeds we have sown
we burn
we live and learn
in this mind-body urn
until dark desires we spurn
there is no shame
treat it like a game
Copyright © Unseeking Seeker | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment