Silent. Reverent. Dissonant. Poem by sandra geisell
Silent. Reverent. Dissonant.
Death cloud.
Still, perched
on thin black wire.
Silent.
Reverent.
Dissonant.
A thousand prayers
a million beads
one fated path.
Curse your
silent breath.
Our loathsome
reverent guest.
Deliver us
dissonant death.
And we'll be,
on our way.
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5/4/2024 5:56:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The words sing. (but I will have to return and think about it later. Off to work!)