Dec 2017
I’ll be on the mountain top* with the stars around my ears. My God to lift my life filled bones, higher than every tree and stone atop the slowly turning earth. The embodiment of bird and sky, with word filled wings to bend the wind and to cut the currents of this life. Like the westerlies, the blueish skies and the seas my father painted in my eyes.
And you will be in the valley below* with the same... foolish... guy.
Pity this,
But not you Miss Fish.
Pity me for the try.
And you will be in the valley below* with the same... foolish... guy.
Pity this,
But not you Miss Fish.
Pity me for the try.
For the truth he shows, I praise his name. And beg his grace for my arrogance.
Also this - My publish poems option is erroring - So I'm working out of my drafts - Tell Elliot please. (:
Also this - My publish poems option is erroring - So I'm working out of my drafts - Tell Elliot please. (:
