Wednesday, 3 September 2008

A meaninless, senseless poem written on the spur of the moment, but sounds beautiful (funny how sounds are beautiful- that's called synesthesia)

Has the wind heard, yet, your sigh?
Have the oceans seen you cry?
Has the land let you pass slowly by?
Does the fire in your heart deny
What empty space alone can know-
The sole cause for that pale glow
Is a hope beyond tomorrow?
Let a little flower slowly bloom
In the silent whispers of the night's gloom.
There is a flicker that kindles your soul
And you wait on forever.

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