Two Lights Poem by james watkin
Two Lights
We know the sun, how boastful he is;
But trustworthy he is not!
Flickers of fretting, each wind draws;
That shape, for a shroud, his lot.
Stepping bold the sun is glorified.
Nights, we cease to rave.
God, light a path before me that dims
Not even beyond the grave.
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: god,sun
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12/25/2025 2:11:22 PM # 1.0.0
