Red as Blood and Wool of Wail

The wound becomes inward like the pink moon
after a little rain. It glows and then becomes
red as the blood and the wool of the wail
dangling white like a sheep in the wind.

And this thorn that now curves in your breast;
you will not bring to the garden
nor to the throned light.
It lies at your breast
as a bone of some lost horse.

It will not bring Light to the growing mooring-post.
Nor will it exalt in any way the twining winds that move
in the night.

:: 10.31.2022 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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