Distant now the echo,
Transmuted from chaos to a bearable rising tide.
The waves form infantile crests,
Easily surmountable.
The sound gives rise,
but I am coherent.
Like some organic filter,
I am here and well.
Call to me old one,
I listen to it fade.
Propagation has become a distant choir,
Like a calm sunrise.
I casually mount my steed of flames,
I would dare to say I am unfazed.
No distortion of time,
No augmented reality.
I am here and well,
I release all the bestial haunt.
The brutish spectre is gone,
This hound of the burial mound,
Chased no more.
I am here and well....
About the Creator
Joe Joe
Finding myself again. In recovery, and remembered how fond I was of writing and poetry. I made many attempts to write books on an old typewriter years ago. I miss that sense of a world inside of me just bursting through my skull.
Whiskey At Dusk
Guess the whiskey was more important to you in the end, wasn’t it? It was more than the well-being of your friends; more vital than showing up to the places you promised you would and could come to; more critical of a matter than fulfilling your damn responsibilities and getting the press off your back.
By Snarky Lisa8 days ago in Humans
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