burn these pages
/brevity may be the soul of wit
but destruction is the soul of poetry
observe
in your hands you hold nature’s majesty
reduced
to mere sheets of dead wood
marked
by the transient thoughts of one blind to the moment
hoping to inspire a fraction of the awe that its life once gave
burn these pages
and feel the flames as they touch your soul
deeper
than any collection of words ever could
Read more:
- seed
- capitalistic desire
- pathology and perversion
This poem was inspired by my book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’. Download a free copy here, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
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