Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2013
New zeniths, gold peaks, wrought art by the dawn
Replete i’a chorus befitting a god
Surreal i’ the sound, arrest hearts to beat on
Perfect not i’ the void of song, of we awed
We be humbl’d by that seraphic tenor
And that feigned haughtiness, urge, morale arise!
Hoist high the gift which holds none the better
Evoking the spirits in a calm’d sea of eyes
Turned aloft, to masks or tried bounds of that range,
Caught on the line betwixt life and a fantasy
We watch and we wait for our lives’ swift change
I lament for the throngs, you, that won’t see
Souls alight brilliantly, rushed by your song
And who will forget you when you are gone?
Written by
JP Goss
Please log in to view and add comments on poems