Untitled
Untitled
If my father calls I go
Among strange letters of a foe
I tread the ladder of his breath
Ascend my son he says to rest
I cannot hold the bird in place
And see no throne or face
A voice across the valley goes
It startles flocks of crows
A pack of ruffled black arises
Scatters over sun’s disguises
Where my father hides his blue
Mane of fire in the true
Remains of silent corps pass by
Burned banners tattered on the sky
Buried in the soldiers’ brains
Stores of gracious April rains
That water cinders dirt and soot
And sweeten the discarded root
Coiled up in flesh
Wed to nothingness
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Amazing. Coiled up in flesh/wed to nothingness. how beautiful.
thank you.
Beautiful write Coiled, the words flow so nicely. Love it 🙂
Take care
marinela
I love it!!
Jon, Bless this with a title! How about If My Father calls or No Throne or Face