I used to stomp around the place with pockets full of stars.
Lightning in each bottle,
Bandage for each scar.
I could sing unwritten hymns through endless mud or tears.
At least shine a tiny light;
Color ugly years.
All those embers are long cold- Heaven is overcast.
Each Artless night I sleepless pray this aching eon pass.
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Comments1
... color ugly years indeed! Thanks for dropping by and sharing your sleepless prayer with us. I cannot express how elegant and sincere your hymns are...
Jarcher.. you are always too kind to me.
Thank you so much.
Really. : )
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