Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Wandering through the invisible web of
emptiness and illusion.
I’m just here shooting my sad arrows at a hopeless moon,
Looking for some kind of reply from the empty
blue vault above.
But all my bolts destined to fall far short
of any connection, drop about me.
Returning, again and again from unknowable regions
to lodge in this cold earth.

A nihilistic poem, I can well imagine Dostoevsky or Albert Camus, writing in this genre. It has class though, and engages. V.good

somehow you've made grim, poetic.....sometimes we run 'round and 'round in the same rut...