PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Everything was perfect in its shape, form

Peace sang in its sweet, red voice along the

million years of history

My body was bursting from every angle it could



It was my last big bang.



I thought that maybe God was hiding somewhere down

there in a crevice by the river

watching from below

Perhaps we caught eyes for a moment and he

grinned at my confusion

I could tell the Earth was parched with thirst, and

now my empitness was no longer my own

it belonged to the world



There is no watering down, no sharp lines left out

My palms are no longer sedated, they are ancient trees that

give birth to groping fingers

A spiritual migration, for if I didn't believe it then...

I've got to believe it now