Little Remark

When the moon dust paints my sorrows,

With each poem they sing,

I come closer to my dwelling,

And forged my long lost being.

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Published in: on 22/03/2013 at 10:20 PM  Leave a Comment  

Senseless Meaning

A bitter man once walked,

The Tractatus left to tell,

Beauty above this world,

Mystical silence dwells,

Paintings of words be art,

White canvas be my heart,

For art for senses too vast,

You are here yet worlds apart.

Published in: on 22/03/2013 at 9:58 PM  Leave a Comment