love come `q u i c k ly !
before a faltered sun
should be still.
Within me mystic darkness,
a church bell rang,
quickly! Like symbols
clanging trembles; cymbal
is my heart —
and symphony is in the air
as it is everyday; every hear!
And I – ah! Stumbles is
where my path leads; tripping
dipping swaying flaying across
“the labor of an age in piled
stones!” Milton knows!
:: 08-01-2015 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 