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| picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/251920172878672559/ |
The dreamers, the loners, observers by choice,
the teller of tales and those who dance under the full moon,
we all walk as written, with a quill and ink,
the path paved with monsters looming underneath our bed.
We are sinners. Sinners with good intentions,
who listen to the melody of the moon
when sleepless nights follow restless days,
when even the stars hide shyly behind the breath of a cloth,
and we hear the unspoken, feel the unsaid, we do what our monsters
tells us to do.
Sometimes I would like to rest. To unplug my head and put it on the table by my bed.
ReplyDeleteToday your words resonate with me in an even deeper way!!
ReplyDeleteI think perhaps the scariest monster for use tellers of tales
ReplyDeleteis that we feel - we feel it all. Ours and others. And we process it
and we write it.
Poets are natural empaths. That's what this piece says to me. And Shadow, you have mastered the empathic connection.
ReplyDeleteNope i am no sinner--not only would that be like having fun but i don't recognize anything done by writers as a sin, especially if it's death by pen.
ReplyDeletehello shadow its dennis the vizsla dog hay wait wot??? their ar monsters under owr beds??? i gess it is a gud thing my bed is on the floor no rum for monsters their!!! ok bye
ReplyDelete