Friday, January 25, 2013

First Poem (Age 8)


Dimly aware of approaching shadows,
wandering on, on, on,
lost in the stillness of the shadows,
wanderer, beware!
Swinging branches,
trembling water,
hidden fears are there.

Wanderer, go back, go back
to the place from whence you come.
Many, many wanderers
lie already in the tomb.


Tantra Wave said...

Gorgeous, this wordsmithing at 8? No wonder Ben is so brilliant too, a chip off the old block! By the way your posting this was a synchronicity:

Jen said...

Glad you like, TW. The poem seemed to be channeled, it just flowed out of me. Still think it is one of my best!

Yeah, I tell Ben he's a chip off the old Mom. ;) Checking out the sync now...