Sunday, December 29, 2013

9 and 8

Perhaps in the pain we have pierced the veil
Let leak from the heavens an enchanting light
Yet for all our desire, so bright and pale
We are burnt by the golden-edged strands of night

And I will be longing for you
Between the page and the book and the tree and the forest
I will be calling for you
Between the drop and the sea and the me and you
I will be hanging on the edge of myself
With your song on my lips
And your curse burning holes in my lungs

Perhaps in the dark we are still and cold
Beleaguered by the wit of an ancient lie
Yet for all we're taught we can never know
What are miles on the earth under an endless sky

No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive

Followers

About Me

My photo
Songwriter, Poet, Heretic