Sometimes hear besides
pleasant whining
a chatter where
inexplicable splendor of man
stands garbed
shameless in nothing,
sails wide past
beating oars of dreams,
carried down the
stream of promised comment,
A new start under
feet, nothing but dirty hands.
Humble people- nothing
they came,
burning heart still
lit in flames till bones were seen.
Deep sea, swell in
whispers of age,
youth the whirlpool of
life,
once handsome and
tall, as are you now
come torchlight
red of the
crying rebellion of stony places-
little patience down
sandy rocks.
No comments:
Post a Comment