My eyes are gnawing teeth of will.
Of will to live
And I will live.
I wonder if I see the rush:
Green feathered trees,
Gray feathered thrush;
The grass, the hills,
The shining stars...
It seems to me
To be
Not very
Far
To know
I may not see
My Star -
Her sacred height,
The centred might.
O-o-oh!!!
Shall right
I grieving be insane,
Remembered wasting self in vain
To leave all waning things to pass
In sightless mind that had that once.
Once...
When upon a time
Folks were young
The Time was kind,
The Dark had Light
But now I'm blind.
Copyright ©1998-2017 Oleksii Chepok
September 1998
© Copyright: Алексей Чепок, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117012804204
Свидетельство о публикации №117012804204
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