Into My Own
P
Peter S. Quinn
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Into my own
Where dark is too dark,
Light is not shown
Only its spark;
Tolling a rose
A pomegranate,
Time away goes
The hour is late.
The blue sculled gaped
Through background filed,
Shadowed landscaped
From within compiled;
Into my own
In lost stalactites,
Forgotten grindstone
Found and lost flights.
Into my own
Opening the deep,
Fertilized axone
Sow what you reap;
This is your evening
Fainting wilted eyes,
Morning shall sing
In a different disguise.
Bu şiiri puanla
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