My Prayer
The Spirit of Rhythm
In the intervals of every hour,
Every hour fore-lived
To others in oscillation,
It's ease with a tap of a toe.
****
There will be days of mental drought,
Lassitude, a sense of ill-sublime.
Breathing tastes like blackberries
Our hearts must beat a vacillating rhythm!
****
Time, it wins and grins.
And don't go phishing
In Gravity's waters'.
May Rhythm be with you every step.
About the Creator
Christian Lee
My nom de plume is Lee Arachnid; think: spider-poet. Here you will find non-fiction and poetry. I interweave elements of nature and my personal experience into uniquely crafted stories. I love idleness, Felidae, literature, and soundscapes.
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More stories from Christian Lee and writers in Poets and other communities.
Second Tuesday of November
No one knew how the event really started. Between a few beverages at the bar, maybe? Notes passed carefully on the street? Or, perhaps a secret meetup at early hours of the day? Whatever the root source was, we were here now on the second Tuesday of November. Nervous, but also absorbed by the allure.
By Elizabeth Petit3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so profound and powerful! Loved your poem!