Grief comes at dawn before the first light
A dream---her eyes
Dark stones in the square before the cathedral.
In the mighty forest
we hear a dull metal roar endlessly rolling
The devil’s diamond fingers scrape the earth
Hammering a thunderous music.
The tallest oaks are falling
Thunder roars
the valley shakes
Fires leap up into the sky
Silver clouds roll on forever
But the streams have lost their way.
So valiantly gleaming
Over the ramparts we watch.
Night’s early prowl
into the valley.
Her wings torn on jagged rocks
Pale evening flees to twilight.
No comments:
Post a Comment