The Making Of Kites - Poem by Sophia White
The world runs black with inken words
With all the thoughts of Men.
The seas churn froth with theories
Recurring time and again.
The hast'ning feet of philosophy
Run blind with slakeless thirst,
Pursuing answers ceaselessly
For fear their worlds should burst.
The hourglass is turned again
The glinting sands run thin.
All eyes looking endlessly
For ways out and ways in.
Thoughts turn inward, thoughts go out
A melee of jumbled sounds.
Men make kites of hopeful words,
But they never leave the ground.
Comments about The Making Of Kites by Sophia White
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You