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The Whisperings Around
In the dulcet storms of my life,
I have been the wrong and the right,
the susurrous sound I hear in the broad daylight,
I feel a little paranoid.
The words revolving around my ears,
“tell me, what is that you fear?”
thy might have some shackles to wear,
“tell me, what is that, that you hold dear?”
Caskets of eternity empty, and so as my vision,
might have kept a few silverings, to purify the tears,
but eyes been dry, focused on hallucinations,
like the gust of wind, would have blown away their sneers.
I wish I had known, but I don't pray,
in the quiescent sea, I lie awake,
bearing the wishes in the layers of cake,
now I know, black in white or white in black, both makes grey.
© Imagine
I have been the wrong and the right,
the susurrous sound I hear in the broad daylight,
I feel a little paranoid.
The words revolving around my ears,
“tell me, what is that you fear?”
thy might have some shackles to wear,
“tell me, what is that, that you hold dear?”
Caskets of eternity empty, and so as my vision,
might have kept a few silverings, to purify the tears,
but eyes been dry, focused on hallucinations,
like the gust of wind, would have blown away their sneers.
I wish I had known, but I don't pray,
in the quiescent sea, I lie awake,
bearing the wishes in the layers of cake,
now I know, black in white or white in black, both makes grey.
© Imagine
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