Deep

Burns
231 1006

29 oct 2015, 18:33

Poesía » Otra

994 0 1

Once the deepest we'd seen was the grave

then we became brave;

went into the unknown;

the colder it got the deeper we'd go

never turned back, traveling on;

walked all the way till the shore

where the depths of the sea were offering more;

so the grave became deeper, farther from home

the slopes scaled were steeper, the sun barely shone;

then came the day that we lay our eyes

on the deepest thing yet, as we drank of the skies

Bur these hearts of ours no longer knew home

nor did they, each-other, so utterly cold.

We'd crossed thresholds unseen and untold.

This distance we've gone now we cannot fold.

The grave became infinite,

and alas, so did we,

being everything,

spread impossibly thin.

And all became none

as all warmth was gone;

Forgot that the deepest and truest thing lies

within pairs of infinite eyes...

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Burns

2015-10-30T20:00:50+02:00

Здравей Анастасия. Замесена е смъртта по един или друг начин в много неща наистина. Въпросът е как гледаме на това.