A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXV

WHAT fear that burns!

That all the eye can see
a morning bird upon a tree
such burning truth, that melody!

Sweeping morning clear the night
erasing visage of thick-white fog
and the mortal souls that fought
who is now lost within last night
upon this beautiful day
if mourning light i remember.

:: 06-13-2014 ::

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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