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RandleFunk
Poems
May 2020
The Gate
Dream a dream of dulcet calm, past a rubicon unseen
drifting through an iron gate, motes of ash gleam
Stare into your mirror eyes, that alchemy amiss
iris an event horizon before a roaring abyss
That funereal passage enshrines a single lyric
βArbeit Macht Freiβ, that victory, somehow pyrrhic
Thoughts on VE day
Written by
RandleFunk
43/M/UK
(43/M/UK)
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Imran Islam
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