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Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Soon

Soon

It does not matter

What you have done.
I do not care
Where you have been.

Those things you imagine
Concern me
Do not.

None of that matters.

Sit with me.

Soon
The setting sun
Will flame the horizon
In exultant light.

Soon
A yellow moon
Will fill the night
With a soft glow.

Soon
We will find redemption
In the arms of the earth
And the embrace of tides.

Soon
All of creation will fill the night
With song.

What possible concern
Could whelm the scales
In dimensions
As grand as these?

2 comments:

Tim O'Keefe said...

Damn! Where do you come up with all of these? One thing is writing constantly. Which you must do. This is brilliant. The forgiveness is... so... God. Thanks man. This one is like a prayer.

The Dashboard Poet said...

I write with the urgency required of breathing. Whenever I take a pause, it blunts my work when I resume. I guess that means I'd best not pause!