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    Neophyte God

    I stand in silence, alone in an expanse of nothing.
    The world above is colorless, as is the world below.
    I cannot define my world, for it has no attributes.
    Nothing forever, emptiness infinite, blinding my senses.
    I am where this world begins and ends.
    For I am the only substance in existence.
    My form wavers, my image unclear.
    I cannot see myself, nothing defined.
    I exist as the only one.
    I cry out into the empty world.
    Only to hear my own voice.
    The sound frightens me.
    It is the only thing that lets me know I exist.
    I am only a voice, waves of sound rippling across my universe.
    Expanding waves, warping my world.
    I scream louder, calling out far.
    Louder and louder, for I have no limits.
    My world is warping, ripples rise.
    Rising above, bringing shadows over me.
    Now there is something else.
    Shadows dance around me.
    I know that their must be light.
    Or their would be no shadow.
    Now my world has some definition.
    My world is light and Shadow.
    Swirling together, rippling out chaos.
    Chaos becomes form.
    Forms of objects surround me.
    They reflect my face.
    I didn't know I had one.
    The faces frighten me.
    They let me know I exist.
    One of them speaks to me.
    Telling me that I don't exist.
    Another speaks to me.
    Telling me it believes I exist.
    Another speaks to me.
    Telling me it knows I exist.
    I talk back to them.
    Telling them that none of them exist.
    That they are only my reflections.
    They all laugh at me.
    And disappear.
    I am alone again.
    In an empty world.
    I stand in silence.
    Afraid to make another sound.


    What do you think of my poem?

    +2  Views: 1703 Answers: 5 Posted: 7 years ago
    Tags: god poem
    Comte

    The Spirit which motivated your its most wonderful Vision, the vibrations fimilar, and I Know you there I can hear uou :) Keep the Silence and continue to listen. When the Silence itself becomes a Presence your are in the Father and the Father in you, he has opened a gloious door for you, that you may know the dream and the reality. God Bless,
    Comte

    The expression is pure, honest and uncluttered,heard from the Heart. Trust in yourself and you will find your own unique revelations cometh from Above.
    Comte

    Even now you are a Great Poet, your metaphors "alone in the expance of nothing" magnificent. Don't listen to any but your own heart. For all things that are, are come out the the "No" thing. For God is beyond "things" yet all things are evidence of His many Ideas of Himself.

    5 Answers

    it's unclear to me whom your describing here , yourself or god.
    it's lonly at the top as well as the bottom , i think not. time to build a ladder
    Gabalis

    There is no difference, Gods presence is within men, his voice is intuitive, trancending the dictates of worldly egos that are the personalities of the carnal world, a world ruled by the senses, not the spirit.
    Your poem reminder's me of the of the feudal samurai poetry do not remember what they called it is very good !

    The Voice rings clear . . . God blesses men in and by His inward voice, let all hear it who can now in this time and in  this place. 

    Interesting premise, but it needs work. For example, something more than just, "alone in an expanse of nothing." Try something like, "I stand on a carpet of moonless anguish, unfurnished joy forever wanting, forever unfulfilled, forever empty." I know my lines are not much better, but poetry should paint pictures with words and sounds of words, not just describe but feel. Its like walking into a darkened room and having the author say, the room was dark - boring. Now if the author describes the room as being, black as a starless summer night, but without the warmth of the crickets song, now at least you get a feeling for what the room might be like. Your's is a great first draft, but I am sure you could make it much more than it currently is. Use your basic idea and make it sing, feel, sting, and borrow life from sadness, while making joy feel like pain. Nothing is real but the agony of loneliness.

    Mindblade16

    Thanks for the constructive criticism. I'll take that into account in future works.

    bluedeath

    Your welcome. Good first effort. I'd love to see more from you. I'm sure if you keep at it, you're going to be a great poet!

    Blue "death" . .. seems like you are trying to glorify yourself in Mindblade's personal LIGHT.  :(



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