Natural innocence
and simplicity ,
a glorious arc
of rainbow charity.
The pulling of silk
through a loom .
A magnificent child
of the storm.
Holding pureness
feeling my love
without knowing .
Asleep at the wheel
of just being born.
The silence was deep ,
sweet and sad .
Her every breath was
a provision of
sacred order .
I had an absolute
vision .
a prelude of silent
music.
The wind sang
sweet lullabies
born of time
and starlight.
The music asked questions
of the breeze,
to butterflies and angels .
But, was answered in
a thunderous storm.
Disintagrating realms
of hope
who will advocate for
a beloved soul .
Life’s wounds move on
but , we are left
with the scars .
-
Author:
WL (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 19th, 2019 22:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 65
Offline)
Comments3
Those scars may be there but they show the healing of your body and Your Spirit.
Great poem. I heard that scars make you stronger. Not so sure about that though.
The scars carried sadness and happiness. The scars remind you were once alive.
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