He knows no border and keeps no limit, He has a blind eye to those who weep. And tears do seep, falling to leaps, For those whose bright has come no more.

He knows no border and keeps no limit, He has a blind eye to those who weep. And tears do seep, falling to leaps, 
For those whose bright has come no more.  death stories
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emmewritesart
emmewritesart insta: @emmesymonepoetry
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Up at Night by Emme Symone



A poem to evoke thought of one’s own existence.

He knows no border and keeps no limit, He has a blind eye to those who weep. And tears do seep, falling to leaps, For those whose bright has come no more.

whether unknown or unknown, He indites his invitation, On the bark of aging fruits and impeccant beginnings. And in the moment he will arrive, to claim his evening bride, who will sleep at the altar under the stars and progressions. For always and forever, they are one.

Young and old, Big and bold, Meek and mild, Mother and child, Friends and kin, When will it end?, As it began?!

Will it be in an instant? Or a whole eternity spent?

The fool is fooled by the fool’s tickling slang, that the young live on in a vessel shaped for dooming. A lesson learned is to discern, That our time is bygone on the heels of last horizon. And morrows rise is a simple game of chance, a wise one would take heed to enhance.

If only to believe in the hope of life, for we have not lived and we know NOT.

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