The silence. Black ravens
Soar, scraping my eyes.
My thirst cuts deeper —
The last storm draws nigh.
You left me no mercy.
Embrace my lone prayer.
No sense — I am hollow,
Still scrying the sun.
A star burns above me,
Where pain leans to pleasure,
My blood becomes dawn.
You shape the sublime
And set me before You,
To praise the Redeemer —
But
Who cancels this storm?
“New frontiers’ runner,
Forgive me the long years
Spent chasing the falling star —
Speranza.”
Speranza
© Copyright: Мартель Этранже, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109031701759
Свидетельство о публикации №109031701759
Рецензии