Friday, March 6, 2009
Emily Brontë Comments
Rating: ★0.0
Nothing might contain the night of life,
The fire of her wild soulscape
And the moors.
Wherein time is a thing to be lost or spent.
...
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1/13/2026 6:31:36 PM # 1.0.0
Wonderful stuff, i like the way you picked up on Brontes outlook upon death as a release from the pain of depression. (Although i could have misinterpreted your poem: S)