TRUTH

The truth is like a dream
where nothing has a name,
as all our tomorrows
are that which never came ;
she punished as the sun
who sought her on the earth -
through myths of Acheron,
the mystic’s desert dearth.

In vultures on thermals
I seem to read her mind -
she travels with spirit
but leaves the flesh behind
and hides between heart - beats
that drum her narrow ledge,
a bottomless chasm
that hugs the razor’s edge.

(More from http://www.zalivanda.com/id3.html

Responses

2 comments so far.

1. ryventheshadowsoul says:

   Hello Roy. It was a very nice poem.( the one you put in your comment to my poem ) I very much enjoyed it. Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to you. I've been shopping for Father's Day and it's rather pressing on the nerves. This seems a bit different from your usual poems, and at the yet the same. None the less it is very good. The beginning, it makes you question this girl and her sense of reality and what is happening around her. That's just me though. Bye.

   Jaclyn

2. Libbie says:

   awesome job