The Sigh of Misted BreathA Poem by icelandicblue
So battle weary am I.
Scars have written their story in Sanskrit across my back. A blood-stained hand print splayed on a limestone wall will mark this time and place. I dance the ceremony of ghosts swirling through the path of swords of another day, barbarians waiting at the gates of my thoughts refusing to be banished begging, begging, begging to be let in for they are starving for more misery and loss, but I have no more to give. I long to be the moss-covered stone knight, hands placed on the hilt of my sword, to rest in dust beneath the cold carved effigy of a deep hollow-eyed silence that will breathe life into my soul and release the light that has been trapped within weakened flesh and bone. I await the coming of the final blow as I listen for the sweet sigh of misted breath. © 2014 icelandicblueReviews
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Added on April 10, 2014Last Updated on April 15, 2014 AuthoricelandicblueBostonAboutI do not accept any new friend requests unless we have read and commented on each others poetry. No exceptions. I have enough homework as it is. I expect reciprocity in our exchanges. Read my work and.. more..Writing
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