Lykren
11-25-2014, 04:14 AM
I love you in contempt of God.
Morning in fact is bitter,
its light is seed sown across the desert.
Now night stalks the stone and brush,
hunting and hunting.
The voiced thought is not
the mirror of an original,
a brook that issues from
haunted sources to follow me
down the mountain. The plain.
There is a gleam
of silence in that star.
Morning in fact is bitter,
its light is seed sown across the desert.
Now night stalks the stone and brush,
hunting and hunting.
The voiced thought is not
the mirror of an original,
a brook that issues from
haunted sources to follow me
down the mountain. The plain.
There is a gleam
of silence in that star.