It’s waiting and watching and praying and hoping;
Somewhere underfoot; somewhere underheart, undermind.
It longs, but slumbers, satisfied in its ability to someday maintain an unprecedented existence.
It hungers for the moment when it can turn the tide, oppose the others, and succeed in returning.
The moment has not come, but the threshold calls, a siren to a lost sailor; the smell of roasting flesh to a starving man.
Oh, to rise and move, to dance and linger no more in its own half-life.
The day will come, but now, it sleeps, unseen and unseeing, unheard and unhearing.
Waiting to live.
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"The moment has not come, but the threshold calls, a siren to a lost sailor; the smell of roasting flesh to a starving man." Favorite part. Keep these up :D
ReplyDeleteI like it a lot. Especially the "siren to a lost sailor" part. That has a lot of meaning for me.
ReplyDelete"A war-horse waiting for a trumped call to sound the devastating charge." would have been my take on the topic...I like battle analogies.
"Somewhere underfoot; somewhere underheart, undermind."
ReplyDeleteLove
Are these past two connected to each other?
can you please write something crappy so i have something other to say than statements of adoration that are becoming too typical of me to mean anything u.u
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