The palace in the far distance, not all that it seemed, confused that gold lies within, yet salt of the wounds bend the perception of the man that ventured forth to find a treasure for keeps; Je Suis, man. The nerves, Homme, of a mind blind with the radiance of one who lost the sense to smell, regained parts to patterns to gain more than what was believed to dwell, far beyond comprehension but nonetheless far from hell; Vers des jours Meilleurs, man, and for the man of tomorrow yet to come, and the man yet to meet, may I greet thee with a tip of the hat not a bite in the teeth.
About the Creator
James Green
Weaving words into captivating worlds, this author's storytelling will transport you to realms of imagination and leave you breathless.
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When they come a knocking but no door to open the knocks come and go as if by juxtaposition. When the door opens it wishes to shut; then why open you venomous mutt, but if knowledge is to be gained a door must open for wisdom to be attained; but if attainment is key why try to open too many just be. A lock to open for you and me the one inside looking for answers to the knocking which justifies thee; not looking for questions but answers presented for free; no riddles just words that make sense to me. Maybe?
By James Green2 years ago in Poets
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