Saturday, June 14, 2008

Opening my poetry vault.

The Nature of Invention

The spider spins his web of lies
but he's no master of disguise
waiting for you to stop and stare
he's surrounded by beauty but unaware

You've had your chance
to join his dance

The black bird sings his simple song
he waits for you to sing along
he flies deep, into the night
just to prove that he's alright

He's tricked you into believing
everything that you are seeing

Though I'd like to be the answer
to your biggest question
I won't make you choose
that's not my intention

The bird still sings his song of hope
while I sit and wait, and try to cope.


No comments:

Post a Comment