By Tony DeLorger © 2011
The sway of life is intoxicating,
blood rushing, heart pounding its will,
every nerve alive with anticipation,
the expectation of prospect a drug of kind.
Each thought surges with determination,
its passage a path to fruition,
finding grip in the physical realm,
like the delicate petals of a flower unfolding.
Reverberating deep with our core,
the souls secret path of expression,
its dynamic our vitality,
our purposeful will to reveal.
We are intricate machines of flesh,
orchestrated by a power beyond comprehension,
a truth so pure our mortal bones quiver,
so remote from the thought of it.
Yet life in its beauty has found us,
planted a seed within us,
to find nourishment in life and to flourish,
the soul like a beacon in the darkness.
I feel it rise within me,
the base earth trembles within its power,
the soul a tiny fragment of existence,
yet still the very core of being.
Perfection at our core,
More by this Author
A descriptive poem about a winter morning.
A poem considering the dicotomy of love and the melding of this dicotomy when true love is found.
An article that discusses what creativity is and how to utilise it for unencumbered creative expression.