Nail in the lid sparingly, sparingly, sparingly,
As we seal the coffin lid.
We cut, cut, cut the stars,
Unfurling a stellar flare.
People, give power to the wolf—
To tear apart disgust with its howl.
Peer into the barrels, and there are:
Two gazing faces, each on either side.
Our Sun is not Christ’s,
But our blood is Christ’s.
Bow down and pledge to Her,
That Love resides in your soul.
Sparingly
© Copyright: Арней Воладу, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124103002930
Свидетельство о публикации №124103002930
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