Sear your wounds
With underwater flame
And sacred sorrows.
There is hurt in your eyes,
And a bitter heart moored
In the leaves of your open
Veins.
A girl of salt will bring
A cup of tears
To wash your broken feet.
They are burnt tears,
The girl a ******
And youngest of sisters three.
In her silver mirror you will
See the reflection of a tortured face.
She will place her hands
Tightly over your eyes
And her palms will bring
The night like black sunflowers.
While death meditates
You will have perfect dreams
Of faces rife with compassion;
And centuries will pass
Under the mirrored water.
When you awake
You will possess great power;
And it will free you like an
Arrow to its ark.
The heart's sharp pain
Will release you and you will
Go forward into the dawn
Like wildflowers exploding
On their stems.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 4:52 PM UTC
Sear your wounds
With underwater flame
And sacred sorrows.
There is hurt in your eyes,
And a bitter heart moored
In the leaves of your open
Veins.
A girl of salt will bring
A cup of tears
To wash your broken feet.
They are burnt tears,
The girl a ******
And youngest of sisters three.
In her silver mirror you will
See the reflection of a tortured face.
She will place her hands
Tightly over your eyes
And her palms will bring
The night like black sunflowers.
While death meditates
You will have perfect dreams
Of faces rife with compassion;
And centuries will pass
Under the mirrored water.
When you awake
You will possess great power;
And it will free you like an
Arrow to its ark.
The heart's sharp pain
Will release you and you will
Go forward into the dawn
Like wildflowers exploding
On their stems.