3 april 2020
Unending Story
In the dust
from the dust. I will see your
face daily,
in between the spaces
in between the hunger―
against the wall, where you were
asked to stand erect
before...
The clock was moving without
hands. I will hear only the
tick, in dark, like the regular
heartbeats.
Ultimately the space wins. We start
moving apart. The distance increases.
Echo becomes dull and
then acoustics fail.
Only the specks now speak.
Each spot was a name
was somebody, was a living being.
23 april 2024
2304wiesiek
23 april 2024
Three poemsAdam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
2204wiesiek
22 april 2024
Echoes TravelSatish Verma
21 april 2024
od wewnątrzsam53
21 april 2024
2104wiesiek
21 april 2024
Picking RelicsSatish Verma
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma
19 april 2024
The VoyagerSatish Verma
18 april 2024
ItinerantSatish Verma