The guests of night secretly come,
Riding upon the wings of subtle air,
From the unknown remote world,
To spend a short span of time,
Rest on the tenderly coloured petals,
Soft leafy beds and points of thorns.
Untouchable glassy gems of purity,
Are made to be seen and praised,
Only by the pure eyes and tongues,
The sun beams pass through them,
Manifesting their divine existence,
Composed with the ethereal colours.
I often ponder sitting by them alone,
A child is as pure as the dewdrops,
When comes creeping and crying,
Into the world of woes and worries;
But the touch of our filthy fingers,
Makes them fall to mix into lying dust,
Of heinous ego, jealousy and vain pride.
Comments
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to be a child again...
Mr. Shanazar,
i agree. we are pure until the world corrupts us, and how addicting the world is! with this in mind, it makes sense to me that we need to be "born again" as children of God, cleansed of the "filthy fingers" of this world. only this time it is a spiritual re-birth to rid us of our ego, jealousy and pride.
ah, but sometimes even the air is polluted and rain comes down with acid. heh. these are the end times indeed.
Pap
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It is a very strong worded and expressivly deep piece my friend
I think really the commas are over done and don't need to be at the end of every line, but is just my humble opinion
Merry Xmas
Cindy
language: 3, rhythm: 3, subject: 3, tone: 3, form: 3.
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