Morning
words are flowing outlike floods in mind's desire
what 'tis i am and burns my fire
until all utterances end
and were do utterances end?
'tis in the fires of a halting
where the instant fades away
like the turn of night time into day
Poetry by CrowRider
Read 475 times
Written on 2011-02-21 at 05:28
|
John Ashleigh |
|
ngaio Beck |
