windswept, frostbittenA Poem by K.old one again
you don’t belong to the realm of words
but that of snow, of the grey winter skies at the outskirts of small towns where pine trees meet industrial zones black smoke rises to white clouds where the rain both taints and cleanses and still there is nothing in you to be purified nothing to be washed away in this land of primal shrieks and silences your honesty is the only ritual of purification, of blessing and confession, repentance is where we, windswept and frostbitten look each other in the eye in a snowstorm without blinking and if we, even once find each other by the same campfire i no longer need to chant devotionals to lost gods © 2016 K. |
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Added on April 28, 2016 Last Updated on April 28, 2016 |