on hold

let me think but not to think
dimmed the white light
the lion is still sleeping
weeping for the loss, the night
and the wind flies the time
born to question
me, myself, cannot rest
I am the flower in the garden of time
beseech before me, I am
still waiting
grasping the air
bend me over, my search of freedom
it is a hope that never be fulfilled
be content, must I?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: