Resemble me.
I heard it, that distant
voice of many
I had no pity for, but then I
What you meant, not just
for yourself. But the
reason, did it have any a reason?
Enough to make yourself question
if a godless was in front of thee?
Maybe I was you?
Maybe it was?
Or just a resemblance, of

Did it startle you
Did I meet you with empty
Just to provoke what
answers thought of faith
Am I xeno-
when we face?

Standing in that room, a moment
was not just me and you, but every other.
Remember how it started?
You did not ask it first, you
did not confront with.
One which is likely the same
question, but you and I
just wont see it
The same...

But I do, I see a god and a
man just like the many of thousands before.
I see devotion to a cause of greater good
I see complete sympathy for the world you "just" made
I see rationality just like any other
I see a wreath and a suit of him almighty
I see, myself fumbling with these words
reaching out.
But what I never really saw, was

em gnilbmeser
Last edited by Eccer at Nov 13, 2013,
I enjoyed this, good job mate It's well written, quite cryptic. But it's not like cheesy or cliche with the vocabulary and structure; something I believe happens too often these days.

I couldn't exactly decipher the subject matter though. Maybe some kind of event happened between two people that made one of them start believing in a god? Or maybe that is a metaphor for something, I can't tell. I'm no good with things like this

Thanks again for your feedback over at my thread
I thought this was amazing, you captured the sense of poetic journey so well, especially with the ending, this is something i am trying to master/incorporate myself atm
The "you and I just won't see it the same" bit is, for me, a little on the nose. The juxtaposition of the interrogative (all those questions) and the dreamlike (the irregular enjambment) in the first half is well done because it mirrors the juxtaposition between god / godlessness; I just feel that lines like the above break the tonality.

In keeping with the juxtaposition, I would also like to see more juxtaposed images to make the thematic contrasts more explicit. See Elizabethan sonnets for great examples of this (e.g. Wyatt) or the Petrarch he pilfered.
"You can never quarantine the past."
They're awful! I signed in for the first time in a long time and read them; it's like watching old footage of yourself.

Thank you, though.
"You can never quarantine the past."