#micahmora

I don't know how I conceived this poem, but I did. I must admit it was dark even for me, but if there's one thing that I always follow is letting my writing write itself. Sometimes when we write we can only there truly and freely express our own feelings those both openly shown and deeply hidden. There's a conflict to find peace. Did I ever find it? That is for you to decide.

   Dust Returned to the Sea

By Micah Mora

   I never carried my heart to near.

Afraid to let go,

I punctured it the best way I could.

On display;

So bold;

At the end of my spear.

    Walked trails,

Mist spattered; lost and alone.

Blindly I walked.

I’d circumvent the trails.

    Better still, to forge my own path.

Better yet, to avoid my rear.

    Endless, that the blood

once timeless and pure,

Now wept dry tears of memories

long and old.

     My dear, how those words,

Once innocent and sweet,

Beat drums.

Echoing out the shrills of the raven

cold and alone.

   Comfort me death!

And give me the peace I long to see.

Walk these miles with me,

Till I’m nothing more,

But dust returned to the sea.

    Dust returned to the sky…

To the heavens…

To the stars…