bitter the mist
that hangs on my soul--
that fog I taste on my lips.
stale is the air
that seeps from my lungs
filling the hollow of night.
the flesh is torn
the spirit set free
Where Death, O Where is Thy Sting?
death comes for all
living and quick:
mortal life never enough!
thunderous skies
the flash of His eyes
the sleeper awake at last!
Tags: Poetry
October 6th, 2005 at 8:40 am
I’d have jumped into the hot tub if you’d read that poem to me.
October 6th, 2005 at 6:47 pm
“Thunderous skies,
the flash of his eyes
the sleeper awake at last”
That’s a great image. I’ve wondered before if looking into his eyes would be almost…violent