Fallen Poem by james watkin
Fallen
As from out this single tree
In whose fruits, down-shook
All identify with; Upsoaked
Whose viewpoints, new-found
Dishonour's woeful sense. Sin's
Bored through. Sin's rot-bound.
As from out that one spread hand
Cups the cosmic whole
Above us; leaving each night
For God's tears, dewy
What void for that, spirit-starred
Hung we for glory.
Wednesday, September 1, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: man,sin,fall
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4/16/2024 5:17:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
