I met you when I first began
I’ve searched you ever since
Living lives of piety
In every lifetime hence
Leading those who led me wrong
Intuning lives subconscious- -ness
I’d live a hundred lifetimes more
I’d never lost my blessed
If on my last we meet again
You returning to your first
I’d turn around, apostacize
I’d turn and search again
Knowing there is always worse
For had we never met
I’d have no one this whole wide universe
No one for whom to search
About the Creator
Amos Glade
Welcome to Pteetneet City & my World of Weird. Here you'll find stories of the bizarre, horror, & magic realism as well as a steaming pile of poetry. Thank you for reading.
For more madness check out my website: https://www.amosglade.com/
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More stories from Amos Glade and writers in Poets and other communities.
From ad men to mad men
It's after 2am in the morning when a local police patrol vehicle in Northern New Jersey spots a figure costumed as Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, proceeding southbound on the sidewalk along Lydecker Street. Though the hunchback’s costume stuffing offers added insulation, it's January, and friggin’ freezing. Carefully, the officers slow down, gently question the subject, and offer him a ride home.
By David W. Maury5 days ago in Humor
Comments (2)
The whole thing is good but the last four lines hit extra hard. I can relate to that feeling, where a search or a stage of longing feels so heavy that it imparts an impression of purpose. Like: even if this pursuit is doomed it carries meaning, for its own sake.
I really feel this.