The red sword arcs
Golden haze breached
Lynching by moon rays
Beady yellow eyes
Glittering promise
Amidst night crawlers
Leafy flags overhead
Susurrating winds
Caressing menace
Abstract flies over
Zen goes farther
As minutes rush by
The aging night wanders on
Count the sheep
Or count the ants
Slow burn of the eyes
And the heart's wick
Only guarantees
Of a forsaken void
3 years ago
Posts
2 comments:
You rogue - you actually multi-task well enough to write Zen-like poetry during hectic 13-hour workdays!
My lord, I am but a candle before a forest fire... Bravo..
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