Monday, April 6, 2015
The restless souls of men reside in the galaxies,
In their twists and strains a falsity has appeared
For the stars are like droplets of sweat,
And the constellations are similar to medicine.
The surgeons are at fault with your streams,
The blood vessels seem to burst like rain
Descending on the liver that waits and feeds
On your distresses inhabiting the realm of stars.
Planets will save themselves with the moons
To collide safely and soundly at the end of Time.
Space is like the rains of the heavens, it feeds
On flutes, rivers and sound that disperses and sets.
The rest of men walk along the roads of stars,
Feeding books to the altars, spending luck again.
I have ascended due to the images of this land,
As the land recedes into the night so effortfully.
Topic(s) of this poem: free verse,soul