She delivered up a rapture that we became completely lost within,
Wrapped in shadows, we wrote our names upon the altar of pardoned sin.
And, trading beating hearts, we forsook all healing from our bleating wounds,
Until triumphant we stood upon civilization’s lovely, blood-reddened tombs,
Dwarfed by a presupposing passion,
Drowned by an oceanic oblivion,
Drawn in by this pluripotent incision.
And still I dream of rivers, of rapids, and of my own
And still I dream of the undertow to take me to my home.
Loren M. Lambert© Nov 1, 2015.
Wrapped in shadows, we wrote our names upon the altar of pardoned sin.
And, trading beating hearts, we forsook all healing from our bleating wounds,
Until triumphant we stood upon civilization’s lovely, blood-reddened tombs,
Dwarfed by a presupposing passion,
Drowned by an oceanic oblivion,
Drawn in by this pluripotent incision.
And still I dream of rivers, of rapids, and of my own
And still I dream of the undertow to take me to my home.
Loren M. Lambert© Nov 1, 2015.
No comments:
Post a Comment