<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=495069" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Quivers Of The Heart....</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THESE ARE our quivers, we have arrived at a dead end, and we face walls, <br>we look for the outline of a door and then a window<br>there is no sketch of a rectangle <br>or square<br>or a hole <br>we are praying for a leak of light to this dark room<br>existence<br>they say the sun does not shine anymore<br>the flowers are shy<br>and kept themselves locked in the tightness of their buds<br>these are the quivers of our imagined endings<br>our hands are shaking<br>the world is suffering to an earthquake of<br>values shattered</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we like to speak only when we are far away from each other<br>our display of affection is well demonstrated by our constant hiding<br>we have devolved into shadows<br>and invoking words cannot take the substitute of the flesh</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am a stranger now arriving at a new place where people do not know <br>me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as i speak, they continue looking outside, waiting for the right train.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i sit on a chair behind them. I sip my coffee. I pay for what i eat and drink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am lost, but this is what i want. I too, look outside, waiting for the right hour to arrive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">these are our quivers. We have no exact hold. Our hands are blistered with so much heat from inside our guts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">temper stored. anger contained. sorrow concealed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">one day, i shall write the poem about an annihilation of us.<br>when you read it, and that is the right hour, i am already gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">nowhere. where is it? i also do not know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=495069" data-title="The Quivers Of The Heart.... de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="THESE ARE our quivers, we have arrived at a dead end, and we face walls, we look for the outline of a door and then a window there is no sketch of a rectangle or square or a hole we are praying for a leak of light to this dark room existence th..."></div> </div> </div>

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