A Poem by illiadne

These are my wandering thoughts, the ideas I have left of life as a whole.

A coin in the hand of a beggar, breath in the lungs of a corpse. The flower that wilts
from the sun'd embrace. 
Perhaps life is thus--
the ebb and flow of a moon's unrequited love, for how could the ocean return her affections?
Are we yet termites clamoring for a taste of that which we cannot reach?
A revolving orb marks the passage of time,
yet the soul remains ageless. 
Life is but an imaginary friend in the mind of a babe, 
ever changing and growing, 
yet gone all together once she realizes she no longer believes.
Perhaps that is the key;
perhaps life is a merely a pocketful of wishes
slung carelessly into a beggars cup.

© 2013 illiadne

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Added on August 19, 2013
Last Updated on August 19, 2013



Clemson, SC

I am an avid writer who unfortunately lacks the patience to put my imagination and creativity into print. I enjoy writing romance and fantasy works, however I dabble in a little bit of everything, and.. more..

The Poet The Poet

A Poem by illiadne