It’s the serpent’s summer
The cold blooded basking in the heat
Like those beating down
From the furious Sun,
Like these from the bleeding of brotherly
And Families / communities
At each other’s throats.
War, at its core, is the mouth of hate
Hell mouth of chaos
The slow death
Of days
We only annihilate our futures past
To be nothing
The finite fate
Of once was— now no more,
A man who is his own riddle
To defeat none
But oneself
To wake to thy own mistakes.
Thy own sakes …
Make it there—a better day
I am certain
After the serpent eats it’s tail
A tale to fabricate
Make our own happy Everlasting
Light of Life
I’ll dream you, my love,
The new heaven
I give you my heart
Oh light of my life!
Everlasting.
Potpoem 10