11 Apr 2007

the stand

we were mute here standing at the turning of the tide
the doomsayer died, and no one was left to foretell of the end
we walked on, forgetting, until we no longer had faces
till our feet bled what we had dreamed, out in the wilderness

bald with pride we stood against the rushing of the river
fierce in longing we prayed for the rains to recognize our pain
we wondered if to bathe in light would wash us our sins
here beyond the limits of the imaginary city, the dream of home

and standing alone, we kept watch over the infant visions
none to know except that he were the conduit of the electric fate
we burned in wonder, and lit a million candles, and hoped
drenched in dreaming, to find our way back to the word of life

would we stand in the path of the great wave of time?
inflicted with a thousand deaths as the yawn of eons boomed?
yet the architecture of night will crack, dawn glimmer
we remember the dream, the tip of forever in that single kiss

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

No Comments »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a comment

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.