My Magnetic Field Shield

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Abstract

desert mirage to be like the grass soak up the nutrients of the yore to sway when the wind blows to wither when frost bestows death’s hands in fractals blooming upon my windowpane.</p><p id="f370">I know now, the mistakes I’ve wrought the hurt I’ve caused with satellite eyes I look upon my dualistic life and though I feel an end growing nigh it only means a new beginning forthwith nurturing might I know now, with frostbitten heart those mountains never held what I was looking and the prophets in those burning bushes of drug-induced haze never beget the truth I bled for In truth, it was all a damned lie.</p><p id="7f24">And through the tears and the loss and the bartering upon crossroad days, all the time within my light I never stop shining like the birds, I don’t stop singing like the Earth molten core and my magnetic field shield I am distant and reticent but beautiful and tender my Northern Light idealism and double-rainbow musings.</p><p id="6053">in hope, those footsteps follow in echoes, I find my way I he

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al and wonder, If you know, I think about you? Your words poetic devices altruistic vices and all those tomorrows you hold in your picture frames. Someday I, too, will have my own pictures in golden frames to guide my heart through an evening repose and gentle grandfather clock chimes as I open my lotus heart in time.</p><p id="888d">© <a href="undefined">Bradley J Nordell</a> 2020</p><p id="757e">If you enjoyed this story, you might also like to read:</p><div id="72e7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/truth-to-all-those-yesterdays-b698b0292ee5"> <div> <div> <h2>Truth to All Those Yesterdays</h2> <div><h3>A poem about facing the past</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*wUc_Qne4dKMVKcT0)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A poem about opening up your heart again

I hear the Wood Thrush warble a lonely song I understand his wants and needs and in the scuttle of ideas I feel the warmth of a hand like a mountain aurora sunset I grasp now why it falls and rises and greets.

and I wonder, when will I awake from this illusion? I love but I do not hold unto burning embers of yesterday For I know the hurt it contains I know the stories it now tells alone.

to hold on when the world grows old to wither like fallen leaves when you should grow to count seconds in eons to count grains of sand in a desert mirage to be like the grass soak up the nutrients of the yore to sway when the wind blows to wither when frost bestows death’s hands in fractals blooming upon my windowpane.

I know now, the mistakes I’ve wrought the hurt I’ve caused with satellite eyes I look upon my dualistic life and though I feel an end growing nigh it only means a new beginning forthwith nurturing might I know now, with frostbitten heart those mountains never held what I was looking and the prophets in those burning bushes of drug-induced haze never beget the truth I bled for In truth, it was all a damned lie.

And through the tears and the loss and the bartering upon crossroad days, all the time within my light I never stop shining like the birds, I don’t stop singing like the Earth molten core and my magnetic field shield I am distant and reticent but beautiful and tender my Northern Light idealism and double-rainbow musings.

in hope, those footsteps follow in echoes, I find my way I heal and wonder, If you know, I think about you? Your words poetic devices altruistic vices and all those tomorrows you hold in your picture frames. Someday I, too, will have my own pictures in golden frames to guide my heart through an evening repose and gentle grandfather clock chimes as I open my lotus heart in time.

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