Borderline

In the myriad wastes of the borderline
that stretches beyond
where our imagination cannot see
with its cryptic temples
that are guarded
by demons of fiery from
that lie in wait
in the dark crevasses our mind.
We may shout and scream
at them to go away,
but in their dark crevasses,
they remain hidden
waiting for the day
when they can cross the borderline
to wreak havoc with our soul.

21 February 2011

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!