A storm; weather which wears the stone in two,
The rose; which from her sisters, I took for you.
The warm; the blood that flows from head to toe,
and the words; words which we utter to and fro.
Simple gifts, water and life, as trivial as empty speech-
Yet, how can these mere earthly things have heavenly reach?
But, I forget, as I stand cold and wet, winds blowing by,
That I have made my trek to these steps to catch an angel's eye.
My arms outstretched, branches grasping for the sun;
The sacrifice of the bush set for this wholly, holy one.
There stands I, bare of pride, daring never to feign
Feign my love for Elysium in this eternal rain.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
A storm; weather which wears the stone in two,
The rose; which from her sisters, I took for you.
The warm; the blood that flows from head to toe,
and the words; words which we utter to and fro.
Simple gifts, water and life, as trivial as empty speech-
Yet, how can these mere earthly things have heavenly reach?
But, I forget, as I stand cold and wet, winds blowing by,
That I have made my trek to these steps to catch an angel's eye.
My arms outstretched, branches grasping for the sun;
The sacrifice of the bush set for this wholly, holy one.
There stands I, bare of pride, daring never to feign
Feign my love for Elysium in this eternal rain.
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