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Crying Soul

a poem

By Moon DesertPublished about a year ago 1 min read
Photo by the Author

Sifting through dirt.

Transforming emptiness into fullness.

Art must exist at the crossroads

surrounding the city,

where red brick plays a crucial role.

I wander,

with no specific purpose in mind.

All that's left are simple steps.

They are like a foundation for my books,

repeated in the same fields countless times.

Somehow,

they always fit perfectly.

Could it be the new reality

that sparks my imagination so brilliantly?

Pick up a stone from the bottle mosaic.

Brigitte Bordeaux is closed,

burgundy shades emanate

everywhere around.

Come along for the ride.

Here, everyone has their own unique goal.

What's yours?

Take a break and unwind.

Buy books and carry on untamed,

unaffected by uncertain times.

From both directions, unknown.

Now familiar because enthralled.

Confined in the right shape of a cage.

---

Thank you for reading!

inspirationalsad poetrysocial commentarysurreal poetryvintageStream of Consciousness

About the Creator

Moon Desert

UK-based

BA in Cultural Studies

Unsplash

Crime Fiction: Love

Poetry: Friend

Psychology: Salvation

I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.

Sylvia Plath

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