Sunday, April 26, 2015

Pure.

Slowly you dig into my soul
in a time wrong and pale
in your fields of justice you found me.

I had fallen asleep in it,
I was rolling in the foggy morning,
I made myself stone staunched under the leaves.

I'm laying quiet with the body of the storm,
I exist with its roots,
I'm making a duel with the perpetual sonata.
Purely.