The Tavern

Image of the Week

All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I\'m sure of that, And I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern. When I get back around to that place, I\'ll be completely sober. Meanwhile, I\'m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary. The day is coming when I fly off, But who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking.

If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks. I didn\'t come here of my own accord, and I can\'t leave that way. Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I\'m going to say. I don\'t plan it. When I\'m outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups. That\'s fine with us. Every morning We glow and in the evening we glow again.

They say there\'s no future for us. They\'re right.

Which is fine with us.


Add Your Reflection:

2 Previous Reflections:

  • link
    On Aug 8, 2020 daan dehn wrote:
    Every fibre of my being screams each syllable as the gospel truth. I only wrote it yesterday.

    Post Your Reply
  • link
    On Feb 27, 2020 Faryana Asghari wrote:
    Thank you! I need this poems original In ifarsi. Can you help me?

    Post Your Reply

Search Awakin Readings

Or search by year, author, or category.

Subscribe to Weekly Email

Every week, we send out a digest with a reading and inspiring stories to our global community of 93,091 people. Subscribe below.


Contact Us

If you'd like to suggest a thought or want to drop us a suggestion, drop us a note.