The Beast that needs Love
My sorrows deep exists not in the tenants of your infatuation,The surface brims, as an overflown chalice of dreams.
Keep not the distance between the meals of your intellect,
And the feast of your desires.
Here lies the grave of a passionate beast.
Awakened by the need to search, sorjourn and eventually lose
Oneself along the path of tomorrow, in a box of yesterdays and in the " Cage of Mirrors" that we call home and deny the sanctity of the place
To ravage and plunder the comfort of innocents.
Here rests the head of a slain creature.
All aong we are hiding the truth from eachother,
We require the aid of ten hands, to caress the figure of a common dream,
"sing me a song of a lad that is gone, say could that lad be I"
Here cometh from alomg the way a distant being.
Poetry by Bekim Rauseo
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Written on 2006-03-31 at 23:33
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