The passage of time before my eyes...
My trembling hands are dyed with red
Again. I am wounded and I wound.
I fall in grass that's wet
With twinkling evening dew,
I'm shattered to dust by pain —
Surrendering to it, I'm born anew.
By holy tears I blessed be!
A bow in reverence to grief and joy
As they are being served to me
On a lukewarm copper ancient plate
By loving hands: of gold,
Of silver.
Of gold, of silver
© Copyright: Женя Парсли, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122062700388
Свидетельство о публикации №122062700388
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