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Is it?

Is not this life?
Is not this will?
What every nook,
And cranny fills?
And why we do
See beauty still,
In this world so dead
Until,
From it springs
The work of God?
What potent limb,
What magic rod,
Doth cause the world
To shake and nod?
Such perfect balance,
So mirror-clear,
Is what we’re graced
To see and hear.
And if there flaw,
And if there fear,
Inside the heart
Of stone so dear
How could I stand?
How could I see?
And if there is,
What is the fee,
To make my world.
To let it be?
©2007-2009 ~BlindSpot-E
:iconblindspot-e:

Author's Comments

one of my best poems plus nice icon i made today for my msn. PISS THY PANTALOONS

Comments


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:iconamriah:
Very nice actually. I like it!

--
Check out my publishing business's first book:pointr: Intimate Journey: Battle Scars
:iconmanjoechan:
I love this poem.. it flows so nicely.

A lot amateur poems I see around are about describing crappy things with stupid long words. Nice to see a proper poem.

Welldone.
:iconblindspot-e:
Aw thanks, :D, I really have to see those poems if they're worse than mine O_O

--
My inking pen...
is ANOTHER PENCIL!

Details

October 5, 2007
762 bytes
8.1 KB
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