my post (8) (1)

Unyielding on breaking through
Parting with myself
Personal canons—things I do
Dusty thoughts setting on their shelf

Continuous conversations from within
Interminable rationalizations
The sun may rise—the day begin
Running from an infinite hoard of paralyzing situations

Inhospitable surroundings—laughter—euphoric the ensuing
Rising—collapsing—shooting stars—limitless depths
At once incessantly doing
At times hopeful for the last predetermined breaths

Time once an enemy comes close
Sheltered with tablets of aspirant hope
Always the middle—I wanted the most
I have been on the chair and tied the rope

What stops an idea—a belief gone wild
Abandoned ecstasy then profits the reigns
Days unto days unto never-ending joys piled
Opposites meet while neither gains

Predetermined breaths
Predetermined deaths
Some are cut short of their predestinations
We choose our choices—then live the parallel sensations

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
This entry was posted in Lyretry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.