Poem : The Ways of Old


Holding both shadows
which creep across my muddy soul

And skittering dabs of dotted moments
which through a keyhole peep
fleeting flakes of fearsome longing


Moments land
Like grace so suddenly
From nowhere
To sit and itch upon one’s  weary brain


They break brilliant the beast
that burdens
Splintering the shackled self
To set forth


To search and seek
remind oneself there is more
The way The walk
We are not alone
If only we remember
The ways of old



6 thoughts on “Poem : The Ways of Old

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