Pomes are hard

I have an incredibly difficult time with poetry. Writing it, I mean. I’m fairly good at enjoying a well written poem. Getting something of my own down in satisfyingly melodic fashion is really hard though.

There is a carrying religious theme through the Ages of the Seed and I’m finding that it requires some poetry. Religious verse isn’t prose, generally. It is parable, instruction, message and verse all in one. It’s a poem.

Generally when I have to write something poetic it is… Well to be honest it’s generally what I’d consider to be total suck. But then there are these brief flashfire moments when a poem writes itself and all I have to do is write it down. I really love those moments. I had one tonight.

The Verse of the Seeker Ardent

In the dark I wandered aimlessly, lost in body and soon in mind. My hands, my sight in these burrows, bloody and raw from the granite incisors I ran them upon. Forsaken, lost, bereft. What would I give to see again the light, to feel the sun upon my face? Nothing, for nothing was everything I had.


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