Passively I wait

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Passively I wait, singing songs and shuffling bones

Yearning for the day that the wind shall take me home

And helpless am I hopeful, that time-that sparks so dear

Will be forever giving, and forgive my standing here

On precipice I’m waiting, to teeter on the edge

Trying hard to live my life within and out my head

 

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About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

2 responses »

  1. I said it in a personal aside to you, oh Keats, but I also feel the need to cast the words out to the winds of the internet as well, RE: my thoughts on this piece.

    It reads like the last voice of, or the fading deity of a dying civilization–a pronouncement or lyrical elegy for a lost culture–a voice reaching out from another time and place. A more self-aware Ozymandias if you will. Tonally, that’s how this one strikes; though I suspect this was built more on an individual note, than with the resonance of a distant figure pinning us to a place and time.

    • that is incredibly touching. I think maybe one of the best reviews I’ve ever had on my writing. It was coming from a place of individual experience, but I often strive to make my words identifiable on a larger scale. Knowing that I succeeded on such a profound level kind of floors me.

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