PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And why is it exactly that I am not moved? Miracles, miracles, swirl around me.
Focusing solely on their own intent. The wind blows poems I'll never know.

And why is it exactly that I am not moved? Laughter from the chest, not the belly.
Tears only serve to aggravate my cheeks. My breath only serves to hold pace with my words.

And why is it exactly that I am not moved? Life grows beside me as I sleep, weaving dreams I don't belong in.
She doesn't smile like she used to.

A more simple miracle I require. I want to cry, I want to laugh.
But abashed I stand gazing at the wretch in the mirror.

Carving these nine letters in my soul. I AM FATHER.

I know not your face, or your voice yet.
But child rest, for you will be removed from the warmth.
And cast into this cold, uncaring world.

But you have moved me!

Like the glaciers that shaped this world.
You have carved somewhere suitable to live in me.
so I will lasso every last star.
To make this world warmer for you.