A flash of light in a concrete jungle.
Hands folding in a mesh of loving flesh
to counter the iron-willed Northern wind,
to counter all these days spent so solemnly.
You press your outer crest – your weight on me,
when all is tired, all substance expired;
to counter separation from the heavens,
to counter all life's unwholesome blemishes
that otherwise shall leave me unfulfilled.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
A flash of light in a concrete jungle.
Hands folding in a mesh of loving flesh
to counter the iron-willed Northern wind,
to counter all these days spent so solemnly.
You press your outer crest – your weight on me,
when all is tired, all substance expired;
to counter separation from the heavens,
to counter all life's unwholesome blemishes
that otherwise shall leave me unfulfilled.
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