Springs

Springs of desire
burning 
in a well.

The days trail in rage
like a sudden climax
playing the game of puzzle
in a veil of confusion

with arrows of unanswered questions 
like,
Am I living in a dream?
Or the reality of a dream?

This space is cloudy,
Quest that lived from papa
to his offspring’s offspring

It came before time
passed time
surpassed time
like a troubled rupture

And,
Again,
Endlessly

The quest trails in a circle.

Comments

SAM DE POET said…
In an unending circle. Your poetry is beautiful.
Amadi Kelly said…
Springs of desire burning in a well", very deep

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