Looking out

Twice unfold blossoms in vain,
twenty-four regrets later it is too late.
The sun, the birth, the everlasting why,
the reason for visibility's issues,
all is but a cause, a feeble attempt
to reiterate the initial bang.

For the record, or whatever,
I am the original cowbeliever.
I am the fructuous reason
the inquisitive man look for
in days when magic is forlorn
and reasons are kept down.




Poetry by Bob
Read 504 times
Written on 2011-02-07 at 21:06

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