At last, I feel
Nothing;
My eyes fill not
With hope,
My mind conjures up
No dreams,
And my body
Is cold
/
At last, the house
Of pain
That’s my heart
Lies in ruins,
And no god
To rebuild it
Will be born
In this world
/
At last, I am
Just like you:
I can look
Without seeing,
I can speak
Without kindness,
I can tread
Without caring
/
What
I’m trampling on
A transformation to be avoided I would think…well expressed.
I wonder sometimes if such a transformation is not unavoidable… Thank you for reading!
This is great, Somedays it is as if we are ants, as those bigger and better than us forget our very existence. Perfectly expressed. loved it!
Thank you for stopping by! It’s exhausting to feel both the physical and the psychological pain at being ‘trampled on’ – I hope very much that ants can only feel the former :).
Love it, and I guess you must be preparing to head off to the mountains soon on your quest to do it without oxygen!
Thanks for reading, Landy! Getting ready, indeed, but it is not the mountains but people I refer to in the poem.