·
One cold July, a heart encased in fear
Relinquished ev'ry chain into the sky.
Horizons in pursuit, lone cavalier
Bore deep into the Jester's mirrored eye.
·
In twilit glade below, intruder staid
Relenting to a cell of falt'ring beams,
When 'round his throat was siren's garland laid,
A silver snare adorned in pearlèd dreams.
·
'fore failing hopes remained a golden shore,
The promised fields with which none else compare,
But frigid limbs could soon churn nothing more
And gentle light was silent' buried there.
·
... the fare that soul paid, held aloft on wings,
Was parting hidden wombs the ocean brings.
·
About the Creator
Ali R. Naqvi
Professional idiot.
instagram.com/alineedshelp
Keep reading
More stories from Ali R. Naqvi and writers in Poets and other communities.
Seasons Of Life
In two days, I’ll be six years sober from meth. Six years. That number still doesn’t sit right in my mouth. It feels too big for someone like me. Too clean. Too far away from the person I was when I was deep in it. Sometimes I still catch myself waiting for someone to tell me it doesn’t count. That I didn’t do it the “right” way. That my recovery is somehow less valid because it didn’t follow a script.
By Jazzmine Boggsa day ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy4 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.