Old gods die slowly
Is it mercy to glance upon them
In the thickness of their blood?
Or will we catch divinity's grim disease
Till sleeves that plunged the dagger deep
Wear the heart of the old one
And the old god is born once more.
Saturday, March 09, 2013
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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