The End Of Days Poem by Christopher Shepheard

The End Of Days

Rating: 5.0


I did not fear my birth
Into this fluttering breath
Where decimal places of measured time
Resolve their way to death.

I linger in my consequence’s tree,
Watching the days detach, drift down, dissolve
Into the primal soup of history
Where egg became zygote — me.

Those days now surround me like a pyre
Wherein my time has perished. From the glow,
Their airy ashes touch me, soft as snow,
Greying my Lenten cheeks with vanished fire.

(2008)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Sally Plumb Plumb 04 December 2009

If you can find the time read 'Rendezvous'.Kind regards.

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My mortality! My mortality! My mortality! Excellently expressed my friend 10+++

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Christopher Shepheard

Christopher Shepheard

Kingston-upon-Sea, Sussex, England
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