XIII
A molotov thrown in rainbow arc,
a fusewire blown in peacock spark,
we've danced on quarks in danger's zone,
and now embark for fields unknown
to stride alone, without his ark.
No moan or groan. The night is dark;
on throne of stone, his fist was stark;
but angels hark now, all intone:
I'll take the earth.
Where moss has grown on rock and bark,
where proud trombones march in the park,
I've flown, a lark, on wings of bone
I'll swim, a shark in blood. Atone?
His wrath condone? Disown my mark?
I'll take the earth.
Beautiful, wonderful poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
Amazing! thats the only word i can use to discribe this.
ReplyDeletethanks for lightening my day
@Dazzler_83