Parting the Clouds
Parting the clouds, the impotent tongue
Lashed futile and died in a misty mind mouth
Whipped like a cur, submissions in granite
On misfire pilgrimage, stumbling south
Shall she, the muse, send and receive
Or close her eyes and cease to believe?
Parting the clouds, or any red sea
Miracle made or drowned in full flowing fog
Circular smiles or ramshackle thoughts
Frog turned to prince, or prince turned to frog
Must I, the scribe, tame both pen and ink
Singing praise to the mythos that taught me to think?
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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