Thoughts in Teirm

That distant and misty, shrouded deep; 

an inevitable terror for the man asleep. 

Paralyzed by the empty of nothingness; 

a heart which begs, with none to bless.

What are you wanting?

There is that shadow that you blame!

Will you finally confess to it your name? 

A pacifying of the inner resting demon;

its a damning thing to toy with reason. 

What are you thinking?

All your lies are anchored underwater;

the paling skies cannot change your color.

What are you waiting for?

More brave young men?

You stupid old fool, breath in.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

My kind of poetry. The sea, the search and the honest ending.
"What are you waiting for?
More brave young men?
You stupid old fool, breath in."
The closing lines above. I could write a epic poem from. Outstanding work dear Anna.
Coyote