Occult

Generations have passed down
This hidden knowledge.
Who has the strength
To carry it
Beyond miles of
Unmarked graves?
Who can pass this torch
From the earthbound dead
to the cloud of the living?
Who will hold it without
Letting minds stumble
Onto mists of spring air
That will surely dissipate
This truth into madness?
What has already been
Given to the wind?
I know I am not the one.
This knowing I carry
Has turned me to crazy
While the restless dead
Snicker from their mounds.
Those piles of dirt
I’ve trodden obliviously
On my way to anywhere
Without recollection
Of fate.

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2 Comments

Filed under poem, poetry

2 responses to “Occult

  1. Love the rhetorics. Hope you’re doing well Johnny.

    Liked by 1 person

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