Silence SpeaksA Poem by John Fitzgerald
We are limited in our ability
To comprehend the eternal scene Yet still her silence speaks to us The cold pastoral hand reaches out and a forest of overwrought thoughts branches beyond All that exists is the procession And we conjecture the rest - The altar, the art, the limitations We all know of what we need is ahead of us - The remains of beauty and truth In midst of other woes and pain And yet the silken skies Marbles a river of regret in her eyes And constructs a mountain of memory as an altar to her soul © 2024 John FitzgeraldReviews
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2 Reviews Added on August 3, 2024 Last Updated on August 3, 2024 Author
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