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thanksgiving poetry

a noite era preta e drear
eu resido na montanha da tabela
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
rosas e ouro
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
para a verdade, para o amor
diga-me
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcăo
dę-me
pela ponte rude
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
composto do loveliness sozinho

 



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