I don’t take glory seriously
because I know, like seasons,
they eventually cease to be
and the switch-off
could catch one cold
like an unprepared winter night;
fingers frozen
like summer gelato
in tourist’s hand.

I take substance wholeheartedly
the collection of traits that make me;
what I am made of,
the things that drive me.
I hold dreams closely
places I want to be
aspirations that should come to life.
For everything on the outside
revolves at its pace
but what is inside is the key to me.

Published by Lord Emmanuel

Creative Writing. Philosophical Poetry

2 thoughts on “Glory

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