Faith
Ignorance perfected, rusted toils of innocence have died
and from these empty eyes I cry. I cry invisible tears
that cut through the decades and weigh heavy on my heart.
Sparkling paths proceed along my face, crippled and crackling
crawling at slow pace.
From this labyrinth of confusion the thorny thoughts
protrude into a suffocating cavity, a captivated audience.
I want to bathe in the pools of your faith, sing with the ripples.
I want to be held by the cradled arm of nature, the boastful
and beautiful bark of the willow, weeping at our sins
Copyright © Phil Naylor | Year Posted 2006
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