"squadroned" poems
There are weights on the stars at dawn;
there is a shadow which lingers low upon the ground.
Stars are ripped from heavenly setting;
tugged and ripped from the night's sky.
They sink only faster,
chained by all which despairs.
The weeping and heartbreak, bleak in unseen nations,
are smothered by their unfueled fire.
The stars; they seem bright tonight,
but they come as squadroned foes.
What peace they have and yet
what shadowed cloaks they wear.
Their mastery flows like the rushing river,
and their watchful patient peace burn like fire upon the shore.
and sill are let down, oh what shall they say now?
The twinks that befall the earth...The stars...are bright tonight.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC