Saturday, March 27, 2010

seeker seeker

Is it possible to love so much, with prayers and tears, a hopeless love for strangers, a bane for familiars. I wonder if any love other than the hopeless kind burns bright over any moment longer than a flap of butterflies and a whiff of marjoram, greed flows like a single tear lashing across the morning grass, slithers like a silver tongued snake within, magnificent from the sky, unseen, coiling a trail of deceit, but a verdict, in the verdant gold, from the sky, from the wind, from the morning creeping in faster than the snake, from the mourning creeping in faster than the wake, a verdict is so hard to reach when it has already been and left

No comments:

Post a Comment