If dusted glass could tell of fate,
Of wars yet won, of destined date
Would fragile veins long withered thin
Swell and ache for bloodied kin?
Prophecy wept through weary eyes
A burden, ne’er gift, but never lies
Creation creeps toward source divine
Knowing well and left behind.
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Author:
Hem (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 4th, 2025 02:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
Very well worded this piece speaks poetically. A fave
You are too kind, thank you so much for the support 🖤
A beautifully written piece of poetry, very enjoyable
So kind of you, thank you! 🖤
You are very welcome
Great write
Thank you! 🖤
You're welcome
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