inside the spider's web,
held against their will
tiny lights held by longing,
pressed close to the
heart of need
reflected from the smoky eyes
of an old blind man
a lifetime of things seen,
and then forgotten lost
in the forever dark.
lamplight on the wet lips
of young lovers swept to sea,
lost in the eternal moment
of passion that breaks
against the shore.
the flame of a candle
burned down and left
on the table by the desk
where he wrote his life's poetry
with a pen dipped in blood.
the first hint of morning
breaking through the tops
of the trees cold and silent
causing the grasses to rise
and sing the song of a new day
shavings of light that
paint the world with naked
human eyes and open
the grave setting the spirit
free free to believe!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem