How soon passed the time, my time of poetry and crime. Now I smash the goblet of this time, the time of poetry and wine. This time belongs to poetry, poetry and rhyme. For the ultimate glory of God I walk poetries thin line.
Like wintry trees waiting for their leaves to return. I stand strong, watching the tinders burn. Waiting in expectation with every folk-dance In waiting, do we diminish, or do we enhance? Tides wait for the moon once more do I labour on the wrong shore? There’s a weight in waiting to wait God please, I’mContinue reading “Waiting”