Details |
Connor Hayes Poem
Shapeless forms, writhing;
What is it that's called thinking?
The Loving Struggle.
Copyright © Connor Hayes | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Connor Hayes Poem
Feel the sky quake, and gaze upon this cosmic Fall;
Let the Ancients guide you through the glory of all.
The Creatures stir, awoken from their timeless sleep;
Stand now, and become lost in the Deep.
Copyright © Connor Hayes | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Connor Hayes Poem
Lying depth, so it's been said,
Down with things that stand;
Turning, turning.
There was that field from before,
And the fight to feel home.
There was I, and us,
And I, and you,
And that pesky emptiness,
Some call the Moon.
Crying to call it Sacred,
With more leaves than roots.
The lifted weight falls heavier now,
And again,
While that belonging is lost.
There is that smirk of the Promised Land;
A gleaming Different, with glitter-green.
Not the stars,
Nor astronomer,
But the gap in between.
There was you,
However brief,
And those great ships that sail in the night.
Yet where is that Earthly residue,
The poets dared to call Gods?
And where do you sleep,
In the eye of the cloudy drop?
Still we sit;
Turning, turning;
Will you never tell me, or grab my hand?
What if I stayed forever,
And there was nothing again?
I can lie,
In the field that will be,
As I, or you, or I, or we,
And gaze upon the glory beneath;
Turning, turning.
Copyright © Connor Hayes | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Connor Hayes Poem
We are stories of the few,
Infested with burning lacerations.
We see the future,
And we despair.
We feel the sickness,
And it makes nothing the same.
We hear the whispers,
Of those hills stained red.
We are haunted by fossils;
The bones forgotten and buried.
We cry, to be lost in the steely sky,
And beg for something different,
With no words to speak its Name.
We learn of the Emptiness,
Yet summon the creatures of old,
And drown in our subtle worship.
We reach out.
We grasp, and negate.
We rejoice in empty triumph.
We Fall.
We stand;
We fight,
We love,
We kill,
We confront the abyss Himself,
Only to realize the Brutal Circle;
We grow enough to see,
That we never were,
And we die,
For we never will be.
Copyright © Connor Hayes | Year Posted 2015
|