Aged Stillness
Hidden fortresses
Hidden, starving hearts
Hidden within boxes
with potential echoes in mourning’s fog
Hidden within tangled webs
with disguised hopes and fears
Hidden, now forgotten
with blind victims
Hidden, faint potential echoes linger
with longings to shatter the hidden
and resurrect bygone utopias
Categories: Thoughts and Perspectives
Oh good, it is a poem. At first I thought it was unpunctuated text akin to the last 40 pages of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Thanks for making me think of Dublin this morning.
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