The Prospect
Where is the hope in the stars?
Tonight they shine not in celestial glory.
I must find them in my grief,
Those traditions of lost allegory.
Life was never so intense
Too easily cast away from the body
So have we been tossed aside;
Left behind without amnesty?
Tears have no shelter here;
That pointless overflow of our true hearts.
They can never last on our skin,
As consequence for life departs.
Death is a powerful soul;
A choral softly uttered by night-
Sung to the setting sun,
Perilous to its unfounded might.
Copyright © Shane Brown | Year Posted 2011
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