“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
I can't help me for all the time I needed help - this is complex and very much felt line. Great poem!
Thank you!
Thank you for this poem! I’m going to be thinking of the abyss as a pearly-eyed horse from now on 🐴
Tim, I love this whole post. You really call for the reader to take a pause. I love how you joined the layers to weave a very powerful poem.
Thank you Tim for sharing, let me respond to this poem with another one (and please feel free to continue the thread if you wish).
How will I meet you,
Tomorrow?
By Stefano
Nothing but empty hands
my unflinching quiver carries.
To you, uncrossed horizons;
for you, thorny roses
plucked in hidden shadows
while everyone was busy
in another world—of matter
and reason, yet blank
as walls to my unyielding
soul—no matter
how crowded are the lands
surrounding us.
I tend the hand—regardless
rocks and crevasses,
labyrinths of untamed minds,
uneven steps of convex thought;
and silence’s hands
as fingers tearing
through your distance.
For here and now—
needs to be known
and told through us.
Us—the most frail
and moving;
among the stars an ocean;
then only skies.
I can't help me for all the time I needed help - this is complex and very much felt line. Great poem!
Thank you!
Thank you for this poem! I’m going to be thinking of the abyss as a pearly-eyed horse from now on 🐴
Tim, I love this whole post. You really call for the reader to take a pause. I love how you joined the layers to weave a very powerful poem.
Thank you Tim for sharing, let me respond to this poem with another one (and please feel free to continue the thread if you wish).
How will I meet you,
Tomorrow?
By Stefano
Nothing but empty hands
my unflinching quiver carries.
To you, uncrossed horizons;
for you, thorny roses
plucked in hidden shadows
while everyone was busy
in another world—of matter
and reason, yet blank
as walls to my unyielding
soul—no matter
how crowded are the lands
surrounding us.
I tend the hand—regardless
rocks and crevasses,
labyrinths of untamed minds,
uneven steps of convex thought;
and silence’s hands
as fingers tearing
through your distance.
For here and now—
needs to be known
and told through us.
Us—the most frail
and moving;
among the stars an ocean;
then only skies.