As Dreams Wrought Of Wind

A trip through the dark mind of a daft Irish poet!

I am but insanity…kindled fair

A madness, a sadness

A soul stripped bare

A forlorn sod, forsaken by God

As absent of substance

As dreams wrought of air

I have from emptiness come

Of darkness begotten

Scion of a sire, dark and dire…

I am but the essence forgotten

The unwanted presence

The sharp sear to the skin

From the fire

 

I am but Heaven and Hell

In an unholy mix

Most unsightly enlightenment 

Of such unlikely pair

I am magic made tragic

By soul fooling tricks

I am but insanity

…kindled fair…

Author's Note

Miscellaneous meandering Thru the muddled mind of an Irish poet.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love it.."magic made tragic"

a poet often feels he or she is doing "soul fooling tricks" but the insanity often helps others keep theirs just by reading, absorbing and understanding he or she is not alone.