Category: Writers Block
She inspects me with her eyes, a magnifying glass from her stance,
She looks at me like an insect, herself she thinks of as a deity.
She's from another time, another place, the ancient ways eched upon her mask like face
The fabric of existance is crumbling, passing before us like light,
We question what it is and often wonder why
It flies through the darkness, its wings outstretched,
Its feathers glistening under the moonlight
Oh how it longs for the taste of flesh,
Its blood pulses in its veins so bright
pierces the night sky, searching for the divine
Shadows and mist help it to exist.
Our souls are complex and woven like threads,
Memories will eventually fade and become dead
What are we here for? what happenes when we die?
The fabric of existance is crumbling right before our eyes
wow evan, i think it is. i like it. some great imagery in that.
thanks, i just thought of it so...yah