Passing
All things must past and too this rage inside me, igniting a torment the whole world wide,
From Cain to sage and fool alike,
This rage must pass to better days,
Where my daughter is loose to roam free,
And her children know the furious joy of harmony,
All things must pass,
And too this rage will leave me.
Copyright © Woodrow Lucas | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment