Ode
Rise up towards the dawning red,
never a hostage to that stolid fiend,
the moor of despairs -
Your flames burn those fermenting
shadows, where an indolent spawn
was birthed from tears of seasonal
limbo.
Walk tall through wintry haars and in
the dead of the night, cast your wrath
around and avail yourself a new Kingdom!
never a hostage to that stolid fiend,
the moor of despairs -
Your flames burn those fermenting
shadows, where an indolent spawn
was birthed from tears of seasonal
limbo.
Walk tall through wintry haars and in
the dead of the night, cast your wrath
around and avail yourself a new Kingdom!
Comments
So long as there are folks left who face life with such a defiance, then there's some hope for the future.
As always, beautiful poem.
Keep on!
Georgia