Soon
What you have done.
I do not care
Where you have been.
Those things you imagine
Concern meDo not.
None of that matters.
Sit with me.
Soon
The setting sunWill flame the horizon
In exultant light.
Soon
A yellow moonWill fill the night
With a soft glow.
Soon
We will find redemptionIn the arms of the earth
And the embrace of tides.
Soon
All of creation will fill the nightWith song.
What possible concern
Could whelm the scalesIn dimensions
As grand as these?
Posts
2 comments:
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.
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!
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