As I stalk breathless
Through the swamp
This is the lesson on not being scared
The fading light
The final bloom
Of things so small
Be not afeard
On the bridge of uncertainty
Of empty shoes
And blasphemy
I stare down unto the tide
And wonder where you will reside
Where once was six there now is five
‘We’ll take it on the chin’
And finally we feel alive
As heavy rains set in
Read to me Father of Sleep
The lines on your brow so very deep
I remember you in lucid grief
As my masters wreath drifts out to sea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your style of poetry, Ashley... it has an archaic ring to it. dan