such finite truths
shall yet unfurl
as we await
unwitting.
the tragedy
of days, unending
the trill of earth afoot.
how tender
is the untrained eye
which falls
upon the burdened hallow
writhing
in its sense
of self
to leave this place
no more.
allow these failings
fear no loss
for freedom
bears no will
i trust.
in tenses past
imploring, e’er
with sovereignty
forsworn
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This left me feeling melancholy, but in a good way? loved the lines “how tender
is the untrained eye”. Thanks for sharing your creative thoughts!
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