I cry so hard
It soaks my neck
The deepest sadness
Hidden in the dark
Like the water cycle
It evaporates
Only to re-condense
Above my display
To fall again
And again
Until my shadow one day
Gets to return
To immortal dust
A confusing existence
Spirit Undetermined
Waiting for the day
It all goes away
Like that weird day
After the parade.
About the Creator
josh tavenor
I'm a 46-year-old man who used to train people in Fitness/Nutrition and I was training to be the first Mr. Olympia from Canada but my career was cut short due to a car accident messing up my back so now I'm on disability Ontario writing.
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Prophetic Passion
A remarkable light is sometimes seen. Sweet to the taste but harmful to the body. You can't have time without existence.The Earth folded over like a cloth. Time is linear to one and a cycle to me. War in heaven? My God would never take the offence from sacred ground. Morning star elevated to creator and screws up. His judgement demanded to vacate? A twisted creator? Political entities? Co-creator demanded to dwell the earth from his angelic office to a throne of stone. New heavens; new earth? Fallen angel for one thousand years after the rebuilding of the temple. A third temple? The end of the age? By a third then one more third. Down to 500 million? GMO to GMH. Lucifer's victory? Over my dead soul! We can't stop it. I have faith in his divine protection. Not one will be abandoned. So let it be written, so let it be done.
By josh tavenor4 years ago in Poets
Comments (1)
keep writing, you will be great.