3 AM

it is late,

entering the witching hour,
insomnia treads,

scribes by the Lotus flower
but if i beg,

humbled as a pauper for bread
will the maiden of dreams find me...
eyes burdened,

weighted,

by the sins of hands
I do not pretend,

truths transcend beyond my reach
quiet as the night I am silent in speech
but loud enough for her to hear,

it draws her near,
poems do appear,

my dreams sincere,
she lies in wait of violet streams
and still i can not touch my maiden of dreams...

Reviews

Wow kind of powerful and well written, i loved the opening two lines. {Well written}