The inner Journey
I sailed across an ancient seaupon a quest of pity
it led me to a sandy scree
beyond which lay a city.
I stepped upon that broken shore
the winds were fierce and chilly
what I once was I was no more
my gravestone bore a lily.
I was an act of putrid flesh;
a smile without true meaning.
I tasted all my sins afresh
ashamed where I'd been preening.
To travel forces us to change
or sometimes to recover
what we habitually estrange;
the Self to self-discover.
Poetry by An-ders
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Written on 2024-09-03 at 23:01
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