These canyon
walls forsaking dawn
The shadows cast
growing long
Time-wrought
halls of callous stone
Bear their scars
of white-washed bone.
These reckless
days; this roving heart.
The pebble is
cast
Into depths
unknown.
This fragile
faith; a fleeting thing
Born of shallow
pools and teeming things.
Such tenuous
cords of air and earth
Daring dreams of
second birth.
Deep in night
the baser things
Prowling round
longing to devour.
The beasts laid
low in hovels still
Tarrying now in
shelters unseen
Trembling at the
kraven host,
Who, in roving,
ever seek
To corrupt;
To consume;
To know no
peace.
Daylight yields
the great flowering
Blossoms wrought
by unseen hands;
Fruit, by
strokes of gilded brush
Burgeoning and
lush.
Such flash of
life under gauzy rays
Bespeak the
power of a greater gaze.
Upon frigid
stone are deep letters hewn
Made flesh by
winds that whip and whirl;
Souls made flesh
by will not rote
By Spirit’s whim
their futures’ sealed
Above the ebbing
obedience;
The rise and
falls,
Sometimes
tortuous displays
Of blessings in
fragility.
In drought or
torrent;
Life or death
The sinuous
strands run fast and deep
Beneath the
earth’s temporal crust
Hidden now
Yet ever still
remain
Ever still
remain.
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