To capture with effort the beating,
The memory of dawn in its flow,
When inspiration comes greeting
A poet with a soul all aglow.
When to every cry of the heart
One must strain the voice to the heights,
When Madonna’s eyes play their part,
And the sun-hair smells of honeyed lights.
The coffin is for the weak and the hollow,
Not for those who into infinity tread!
Whom the chill of death cannot swallow,
By humanity their reason is led!
They are sons of a Universe New!
Beings of a structure untold...
Love is the foundation and hue!
The primary thought of the matter's mold.
The creators of temples so fine,
Of music and verses of grace...
For even in grains most divine,
The Love rules all time... and all space.
Sons of new universe
© Copyright: Алёна Гаштольд, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126022409674
Свидетельство о публикации №126022409674
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