Nine lines

We are of time, uncounted. 

Formed by fragments of the whole

as we search for enlightenment 

between each swiftly turning page.       

We are thin boned, moths to a flame,

moving from purity to decay

like a spoiled child putting out a tongue;

Trapped between ecstasy and agony 

until a brief drift of ember sets us free.                            

Reviews

[Neville]

Forgive me if I don't write too much but your 'Nine lines' is probably one of my favorites. Absolutely perfect and damn, I wish I had written it...... All Good Things, N

[ANTO]

"We are of time...formed by fragments of the whole.." - this truly spoke to me and my being.

Time is our abstract way of marking decay for some and growth for others. With those fleeting moments of transcending it all which give us soul-lifts and make us glad we are alive.

Your eloquence is top notch here Beccy - loved that child sticking out their tongue image - the quintessential poster boy/girl for human-stubbornness - brilliant dear poet.
9 lines eh - great title.
Happy St Paddies my friend :)

[NoelHC]

A great deal to be considered in these few simple words. Well written Beccy. I could picture that ember burning the ties that bind.