It turns out, and with all spiritual sincerity, I belong to the Eve of Starvation.
An infinity objectifying its own existence, I slaughter the opportunity of eternal nothingness, weaving flesh from a pendulum struck by a tear of lightning.
Everything tilts but never turns, seemingly capsizing without ever fully being sunk.
This rare moment we call the universe cherishing its own existence is pure negation.
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Nothing else in this material world belongs to us. Everything is perishable except soul. You have wonderful vision for this poem. This is very brilliantly penned...10
Thanks, enjoy your poetry; reminds me of when I first saw the Sun... Go check out the latest one if you like these or dm if you want to see the ones which I consider better than the basic ones I post on here, they explore new forms and techniques of poetry, and approaching it, I have a structure of language and all sorts if you're interested! :) Peace & Love