Friday, January 4, 2013

Of Five Smooth Stones

There are Words that lie in wait,
Prophetic Hunters covert in copses,
Camouflaged silence
Waiting to be whispered,
Ready to bring down the sky,
Salvation in a blinding blink,
New birth after the rushing water,
A cry of hope and fear,
The bloody indignity.

Not all the words have been spent,
The purse is still full,
In this world
There are  giants left to kill.
A flash mob slinging praise
Shall bring down the glory
In the great Dumbfounding. .

No comments:

Post a Comment