invention
what if there were no mystery, no games
nor intrigues for the mind to play? what if
the curiosity is but a strain,
an invention of tired mind's bored griefs?
the myth of which you seek in me, may not
exist - no shadows with their wonderings
have played within the corners of mind's knots;
no dark creeping of fearful tears, shivers
of clenching, quaking hands. see me as bright
in golden sun that shines with light that lasts,
the eyes that blink tears to forget the blight,
the false remembrances of darkness past.
please don't persist, though whys may still be there,
the invented pieces found, pulled from the air.
nor intrigues for the mind to play? what if
the curiosity is but a strain,
an invention of tired mind's bored griefs?
the myth of which you seek in me, may not
exist - no shadows with their wonderings
have played within the corners of mind's knots;
no dark creeping of fearful tears, shivers
of clenching, quaking hands. see me as bright
in golden sun that shines with light that lasts,
the eyes that blink tears to forget the blight,
the false remembrances of darkness past.
please don't persist, though whys may still be there,
the invented pieces found, pulled from the air.
no shadows; no dark. golden sun. sounds nice :)
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