liz123
09/19/08, 11:17 AM
Golden rays reach flowers beneath.
Flood them with your warm embrace
Shroud them in bright beams of light.
But you're poised up high,
the sun won't set tonight.
Blind to the shadows that roam the land,
The weeds they thrive, the oak tree hides
the weak, they plead "Help us, please!"
But they won't see the light of day.
What shape are we moulded?
We, fruitless sightless souls, betray our eyes.
The world is bigger, but we don't look further,than our own, petty, lives.
(It would be interesting to see how you interpret the meaning of what I've written. Your criticism would also be appreciated.)
Flood them with your warm embrace
Shroud them in bright beams of light.
But you're poised up high,
the sun won't set tonight.
Blind to the shadows that roam the land,
The weeds they thrive, the oak tree hides
the weak, they plead "Help us, please!"
But they won't see the light of day.
What shape are we moulded?
We, fruitless sightless souls, betray our eyes.
The world is bigger, but we don't look further,than our own, petty, lives.
(It would be interesting to see how you interpret the meaning of what I've written. Your criticism would also be appreciated.)