Tuesday, 14 September 2021

Near, yet far

Bitter hard is twist as fate, well awash the ecstatic face, no more tears of joy with drink, spread on plaster base, incredulous cover of satin lace.

Swarm the tower, fragment our thoughts, demolish utopian congretional thoughts thus strive on course, the cockroach spreads when squashed on boards.

Eruptious practicality, wishing smiles, never mock truth inflicted,  travel for miles, delay the haven, suspend ones peace, when finally at the end, we will feel release, then hold on close to heavens child. 

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“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

Quietly I wish to travel onwards  tremor the thunderous anxiety  it rules thy desperation for peace  Lord God knows the desire of our heart ...