How can one human being contort their bleak spirits into blazing specimen of lascviatiousness?
Staring into a tiny crypt in the wall,
it appearing as if blinking from unltra violet to black at a quick pulsation,
the prowess beauty of human's intimate relationship with anatomy...
How can one tiny,
seemingly meaningless memory result to all of this highly emancipating thought?
But here's one thing,
what is to happen to great works,
after their creators have perished?
does all the work fade,
with the soul?
Or REBORN into a creation of new,
resurected from the depths of their creators clutches
and released from their own Hell,
we will be brought back one day
when the Earth is gone and all that remains is a sea of rocks
sailing weightlessly in a dark void of nonchalance space,
our spirits are ETERNAL
and our energy will NOT
and will especially
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Comments about this poem (Absent Mindedness by Katherine Lyczek )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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