On the Wings of a Memory

By Litteratus

(N.B. This is a Waldenesque work)

With torn spirit I go to the tranquil creek,
There monkish contemplation, divine revelation I seek,
And build a mere meek human nest
Financed from only a miser's chest,
So I shall grow in the forest's feigned solitude.

Come day, my heart beats a pulse to the pop
Of bursting seeds sprouting peas and hyssop,
And while passing time under a gleaming moon
With the crackling leaves and cackling loon,
I stare at Truth rendered nude.

And there my grave will be put,
Amid the quiet battles always underfoot.
Now that I am again under lamp-lit skies,
I muse, sigh, then close my eyes
And the memory lifts my soul to higher altitudes.

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Published on .     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "On the Wings of a Memory"

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  • PoetessDarkly On Wednesday, February 27, 2013, PoetessDarkly (700)By person wrote:

    wow this is outstanding and I am honored to read such a wonderful pen. I am surprised others haven't caught on to your genius

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