Posted in Poems

The Thresh

I passed an unborn threshold
Into a place unheard
It left a mark untold
And made my vision blurred
Almost like a blindfold
Or a broken, sightless bird
I sat with eyes controlled
And a face made absurd
Once I sat here freely
Not yet had I crossed that line
Yet the words were light and breezy
Simple, known, and confined
I once would walk with wonder
Through a world of my design
Yet now I sit in blunders
Searching for the sublime
In a world gone mad with madness
A world concerned with time
I looked for a final meaning
A sensible, final rhyme
But now the story wanders
At least in this world of mine
For I crossed that unborn threshold
That lacks to self-define
Once I wrote with fury
Knowing my way throughout
Yet the future is all but blurry
And I’ve no idea what it’s about
So if you are writer
A being of unsaid words
Don’t make your work a cypher
Don’t make your dialogue slurred
Allow yourself to wonder
At the time and place you’re in
For before you even know it
The story, it will end


I'm a writer, filmmaker, and Human. I think...

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