Geremia
Geremia
Aug 18, 2015

METAMORPHOSIS

METAMORPHOSIS

I don't speak of Spring flowers
sunny days and pic-nicks by the sea.
times of wonder; eyes clouded
by blind innocence.

My soul now mourns
the death of Time
and the loss of dreams
and my eyes have looked
beyond what seems.

What is done is gone,
no-one comes back
from the dead.
What I see in front of me
is pain and dread...and change.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Country/Region: USA

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Comments

S

We will all go through that final change some day. A lot of questions will be answered then."My soul now mourns the death of time"..........excellent..............stan

Sparrow

METAMORPHOSIS, lets all hope we are the larvae of a beautiful creature, that crawls this Earth and adapts its surroundings to suit its own mortality.
I know your priests and such tell you many things of how you will be damned if you do wrong etc. but if there is no purpose then there is NO God, If you are to die and not continue what would the point of your God be if only to furnish the continuation of the lies that started to kill many people since it was invented.
I shall believe that there is a place within or without our place and as a spiritual creature we will be free to mingle with like spirits form as long as we wish to.
Take care young Joe, I shall emerge from this Metamorphosis state once I have completed my time here.
Yours Ian..