While the wind whispers womanly things
The daylight wanders aimless and sings of displacement
In a cup half full of emptiness and oxidant silver rings
One's ills leak solvent like from our deep and darkest springs
Unstoppable, improbable and impervious to abatement
Infinitely crass,
through soil and grass withered hands to its tombstone clings
While water's taint quenches the thirst of Angels stripped of wings
The past offers a glimpse into the fear of forever,
And the insolent
In this our decision's equity whilst coaxing the wasp's wicked sting
Ó2010 J. K. Bradford
--
"Our failures are directly proportionate to our unreconciled fears"
Credo Ut Intelligam
Above all else, think and reason. See with the eyes of your heart.
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