Where is the exsanguinated water found
That I may dip my hands,
Wash my forehead of gashes...
Sifting universes
Where I walk beside streams
Free of guilt,
Mindless of guile...
When through my fault,
My most grievous fault,
I have found the way
To go
Home.
To see.
Not to see.
See once more...
Turning my back on psalms...
Enri, Enri, Enri...
I follow the Linden home,
Walking towards years of
Ash,
Yew.
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.
Agnus Dei! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Elys...... it is always wonderful to see you posting, though I am a bit irritated that you made my brain have to function at quarter to eight on a sunday evening. hugs. t x