Cascade (In All But Words) - Poem by Poetry Forms
The questions that he frames in all but words
will run as hushed as when they were a thought;
yet nothing he should care to leave behind,
they cannot scare him with their empty spaces.
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once
the questions that he frames in all but words,
they fall, they rip the grass, they intersect;
they must go downward past things coming up
will run as hushed as when they were a thought
be swallowed up in leaves that blow away,
to scare himself with his own desert places,
yet nothing he should care to leave behind.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You