Only where the cliffs do battle with the raging tides,
Does the ocean scatter; Foaming white with sigh.
Only when the moon is ambitious enough to goad,
Are we gifted with nasma; To night-sky sun be sewed. 
The coldest days of winter come right after the fall,
Everything a cosmic jest, the single traps the all.

And so it is with prayer.
Only through awe and fear,
Can we squeeze sacred starlight,
From out between our ears. 

  • Author: Quemis (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 30th, 2022 20:44
  • Comment from author about the poem: ...
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 10


  • Saxon Crow

    Nicely penned

    • Quemis

      Thank you poet!!

    • L. B. Mek

      what choice wording, such a beautiful read
      I'm so happy
      that you seem to have
      such a strong anchor
      for hope, in your life..
      thanks for sharing, dear Poet

      • Quemis

        Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.

        Thank you.

        • L. B. Mek

          ah... just like the rest of us then
          all good, dear poet
          some, is always better than none!

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