Whirlpool

There are days my balance ceases
Sanity decreases
Fear releases
Its dark whirlpool

There are days deep hidden urges
Surface and despair emerges
Life's thread verges
On whirlpool's rim

There are days as black as condors
Mind can't ponder
Body wanders
Into a whirlpool

There are days with no forewarning
Noon or morning
Unadorning
Pull me down.

by Liilia Talts Morrison

Other poems of TALTS MORRISON (683)

Comments (4)

The poem raises a pertinent question, whether to fall in love and risk heartbreak, or keep love at bay and one's heart intact. I personally would go with Tennyson: Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
I've always loved this poem since I first read it & George Butterworth's setting of the poem intensifies its already great beauty.
some people fail to appreciate the wisdom
I did underline translation into the Russian language.