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Mar 2010
How free we fly on broken wing,
Return is the cry, return again,
The eternal black is far from round,
The sound it carries through spiritual graves,
And echoes abound for all life is saved.

Immortal heads will turn at this intrusion of life,
Falling icons can't erupt the flames we decide,
Mystic groans cavorting commence,
Today is born the circle,
Tomorrow the tide of innocence.

Forget the crimson dagger and the sacrificial sword,
What is true of Satan and true from the lord?
For must we seek salvation and spur infinite damnation,
Conceal no more the thoughts of inner pride,
Now is the future,
But how far is the divide.
..............................................
Written by
Paul Mackenzie  Ridgefield, wa
(Ridgefield, wa)   
436
   D Conors
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