Spirits Of Holy Poem by Pasquale DiMeola
Spirits Of Holy
We are born unto a mother
We will die without a mother
Flung to an oceanic void
You may wish for yet another
Parallel to someone other
Opposite of a trapezoid
Come the painful pits of anguish
Long before your hopes have vanquished
In a corpse turning stiff and blue
Momentarily you'll languish
Innards squashing like a sandwich
Hands of divineness will..numb...you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 11:07:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
liked the holy spirits