***


Stone Walls


Fresh black paint on white stone walls
Who could ever read the sign, or return your gift of speech?
We lived a life long lost sunken, crumbling sea roads which led
Thoughts gone far astray and fields underneath a fallen sky,
Following in foreign furrows on barefoot souls learning to pray
High on the laughable horrors of Heaven and Hell, crashing towers
Of zeros felt like gorgeous creatures kissing shoulders and faces
I taught myself to read the eternal races of living light
Woven with an art too mysterious to ever trace or write
Into words having being which we were, (just a thought)
Fresh white paint on black stone walls




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 564 times
Written on 2013-06-14 at 22:56

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Full of imager, perhaps it is me, I sometimes can read too much into another's writing but I felt a real sadness in this, a beautiful sadness which that last line just captures

Elle
2013-06-15