The Sun is burning the wrong color
A street lamp instead of a god
Intruding light
Newspaper shreds blow down the street
A wet Silence
The empty glare clings
A fog you can't see without
Scalding the Horizon
The Sun darkens with the blood of the Sky
Day's fatality on His hands
A ruddy end
Florid in its death throes
The gray creeps over
Until fading to the black of decay
The black of the womb
The gray of the Dawn
Pale thighs stained pink with Life
The golden infant crowns
Body still tinged with blood
Heaven lifts Her child
Trying to see His face
Only to lose and birth Him again
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
The Sun is burning the wrong color
A street lamp instead of a god
Intruding light
Newspaper shreds blow down the street
A wet Silence
The empty glare clings
A fog you can't see without
Scalding the Horizon
The Sun darkens with the blood of the Sky
Day's fatality on His hands
A ruddy end
Florid in its death throes
The gray creeps over
Until fading to the black of decay
The black of the womb
The gray of the Dawn
Pale thighs stained pink with Life
The golden infant crowns
Body still tinged with blood
Heaven lifts Her child
Trying to see His face
Only to lose and birth Him again
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