A poem for Nietzsche
Left to my own demise after
Observing my own thoughts.
Can’t seem to stop them from
Assimilating such distorted perceptions. Perhaps my mind is
Lost with madness, as I have come across Nietzsche’s horse
With philosophical/poetic prose,
Littermature
Make It Stick, Write It Down. A Journaled Philosophy.
CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE
**Damp reflections on what thunder and lightning feel like.**
I sit here staring through the middle of the night. That, and not much more.
The rain trickles, and pours… Then trickles… Then pours.
As it struggles to find an enduring rhythm, the subtle but unmistakable flashes of lightning that dance in the accompaniment of thunder.
What feelings wash into my being?
As my surrounding environment washes within itself, I continue to sit and stare; feeling.
It’s funny to witness playing within the boundaries of such moments.
These moments, where nothing seems certain; a complete obscurity,
A desolate experience in itself, though contrastingly relaxing.
Perhaps my yearning for solitude is being embraced in this moment,
Where nothing more but rain, dropping and spreading itself over the cold hard pavement, has been spread into existence to navigate this vast urban infrastructure.
Where is this damp moment taking me?
The outside is in, with my own inside’s out.
Cleanse this emotional obscurity, Quickly.
As I remain sedated in this state of solitary tranquility.
With Introspection,
Littermature
Make It Stick, Write It Down. A Journaled Philosophy.
CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE
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