Exhausted of wandering the route of the cyclic night
Horizon which expands in endless swirls
Eternity which waits holding the supposed myself.
Empty generator of fire storms
Solar wind which wears off the barriers of soul.
Exhausted of the vision which slowly fades away
Dense fog of death over the shape and its sphere.
Tears of blood germinate eternal poems in my hands
Destined to get lost in the human abyss of indifference.
My thoughts draw the shape of the essence
I walk lifelessly to the non-existent memory
Again, wandering on the axis of the nothing.
Recurrent, sullen, moody
I won't come back in the old dormant manner
© Gorka Lasa
Gorka Lasa Tribaldos writes from Panama, and took part with this poem of the second Heptagrama poetry contest.
Arts and expression + Poetry