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May 2020
Black bag hanging on
a yellow wall .
Temptations most foul .
A gathering of innocents.
The reckoning of the darkness
the mercy of the careless dawn .

Trying to let the pain escape
from a bent back Orchid
to a backlit heart shaped bush .
In the dominion of
the night grace ,
steep stairs and
wind walks .

Wander eyes silent
in the misty morn .

Night flies and thunder slips
as echoes cast the spells
of the god of
emptiness and despair.

From grains of salt
She emerges
trying to put the
pressure asunder.
Not an unkindly Angel
flowing from the
lonely light .
Who shall deliver me
my sweet surcease .
WL Schuett
Written by
WL Schuett  M
(M)   
56
     Jamadhi Verse
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