XiXiXiX

[swilow]

A time has come; my time is done
with mine and my Will, rhymes are spun
from older threads that climbed and grew
into vines and high roots- light will bloom
again, for all ov us trapped in world-
if we but seek to clap, unheard
with no more thanks then we give to sky
but one more grace then lives inside
We spun this world into somewhere
And nowhere did this world compare
but all things living must die to rise
again, upon gleams ov morning skies
If I could count one thousand souls
One house of cards- to nothing, fold
And Love it more then Love itself-
so loves a place more known then felt.

 

[straycatphizzle]

wonderful

 

[New]

there's a certain hopeful despair that you've captured well.