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Literature Text
In need of hope he drifts idly,
ironically denied.
He seeks without eyes,
listens without ears,
speaks nothing but, well...
Where is the hand to hold?
the loving embrace?
the caring shoulder?
the beautiful soul to turn to?
Run to.
The dove remains in the olive tree;
time questions its return.
Sunlight fades,
Moonlight envelopes, hindered by a shimmering grey.
And still, he drifts by.
Unknowing.
ironically denied.
He seeks without eyes,
listens without ears,
speaks nothing but, well...
Where is the hand to hold?
the loving embrace?
the caring shoulder?
the beautiful soul to turn to?
Run to.
The dove remains in the olive tree;
time questions its return.
Sunlight fades,
Moonlight envelopes, hindered by a shimmering grey.
And still, he drifts by.
Unknowing.
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It's about time I wrote a poem whilst listening to this piece from Nobuo Uematsu. It's a short piece, sharing the same title as this poem.
It probably wasn't wise to write at 1.20am on a wednesday morning though huh... =]
It probably wasn't wise to write at 1.20am on a wednesday morning though huh... =]
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Comments3
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And for some reason this makes me think of the first line of William Wordsworth's Daffodils, 'I wandered lonely as a cloud'. Must be the 'drifting' 
.
Anyway, good poem
In need of hope he drifts idly,
ironically denied.
He seeks without eyes,
listens without ears,
and who needs wisdom, I'm beginning to think inspiration stalks the night.
.Anyway, good poem
In need of hope he drifts idly,
ironically denied.
He seeks without eyes,
listens without ears,
and who needs wisdom, I'm beginning to think inspiration stalks the night.