From I, an echo, the deepest sounding sleep;
I am rested and the earth is all I hear;
The abundance of the lakes repeats all my fears;
In tidal touches, cleansing as it goes forward in time;
My heart intra-laced in ultra sound;
From black Baltic earth it pounds and pounds;
The waves of hollow holocaustic ache;
Throws this nocturna bravery into snowflakes;
Ponds of time draws so close – I flurry and go into exit.
My soul, the sultan of black magic;
Tears that rips in pages existential frantic;
Holds nothing but minutes into the Trans-Atlantic;
When I hear the night woods weep;
I am rested and the earth is all I hear.
Inspired by
Marge Tindal – piptalk.com Poet
When the Night Woods Weep
posted 03-29-2003 02:52 PM
