Interiors Poem by David Kowalczyk
Interiors
Rating: ★4.7
Primitive myths paint
death as black,
life white.
Between life and death,
we spend our days.
Not as zebras, nor rainbows,
norshades of gray.
But as beings far finer
than light alone.
As invisible to angels
as they are to us.
Colorless,
even to God.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
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5/22/2024 9:16:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
See my previous comment about 'Impeccable Eyes' regarding the surefire signs of hallucinogenic drug use...