The role of Stone is that of Ice
But seeks a slower sun.
To Synapse, stealth Invisible,
Concision to the Bone.
The praying hands of branches bared
By Wind, this season’s Star,
Implore — insensate, arrogant —
As snowflakes formed in Fire.
Above our church a fist of smoke
Diminishes all Blooms
Within that Park where Prayers revolve
On a Carousel of tombs.
Next post: Strange Daze
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My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
Gerard Van der Leun
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This really is rather good, excellent.
Please do more.
I like the hymn meter here. Reminds me of Emily Dickinson.
Those prayers weave for you a garment,
as the Carousel serves as loom round and round on this silent ground.
All aboard! All aboard! It’s your final call.
Your shroud’s well woven, your ticket’s punched.
All aboard!
Beautiful words
This fits my mood like a glove and the times as well. A verse should free you from the page and set your mind/spirit free to roam. Thank you.