There's a heaviness and
Weariness of soul
As the sleepers in the sunrise
Groan, and turn with
Backs bruised from the sleepless moon
And the drowsy midnight eyes
Defenseless against the wind of
Vivid thoughts, soaring above the
Inner mind's peaks, descending
Into chasms birthed from anguished soul
Flutter about, land in high places
Despite the clay-mingl'd soil beneath
Into the God-breathed hope
Every sorrow'd man stands
Inspired air, intagible, yet
Felt fully in the depth of soul
The gleaming light, the sparrow
All eyes are set upon
Blood and marrow, in betwixt
Solemn strength does lie
1 comment:
"Into the God-breathed hope"...
Your words are like a sweet kind of honey therapy. Like a hot, hot cup of tea. It's sweet aroma rises and bends and folds around my face to provide for me a sort of comfort, in which "Solemn strength does lie"
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