if it's sun
to which we are
consigned
for want of
endless
night
then by day we'll see
our love
defined
as solvence
slipping
blight
effect spleen
in shadow at
the wall
a quiet plea
eternal
stays
it heeds persistent
arcane
call
flies to that
which ever
weighs
a shoulder
to the spinning
wheel
fair skies that
don't ever
stay
for those not
born and bread of
steel
if day defines just
who we
are
i'll wear my
darkest
cloak
and proffer then
a little
star
to all the
sun-blind
folk
that they might see
if
fleetingly
the way it
works in
space
we give and
take
repeatedly
that we might bring
some
grace
No comments:
Post a Comment