madness defines my words, a moment of truth, no explanation of life's ritual, this day is as other's to pass. my voice is like a fiddler's rhythm, woven cries of a screaming woman holding grasping reaching out for what is not their, typing words that are recieved, into struggling circles of windows grieving pains as the unheard is said and done.
life to this is a meager end, a setting of styx that is unseen, my field of dreams, my troubles, my fears and far away hopes, are the war cries of a warrior's strength, whispering hopes as they are howled to the winds.
braves is the weak and strong alike what say you.
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Reviews of "unseen"
Reviewed by Thomas Lanechanger (Reader)
Reviewed on July 9, 2004
A very powerful descriptive write, Poet!!!… It just screams off the page!!!… I enjoyed the read!!!… Excellent work!!!
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