|
Edited on Wed May-04-05 09:38 PM by ALago1
More
I delclare her love is gentle, 'spite her feet deep entrenched in the groundspace. And this is why I cling to her - for a better gague of shore. Plus my sight now lacks direction So I'm starving for affection Whilst the roles I have took step in I must verily endure, Though thick and thin in tides of life (and even tides of yore), Despite my thoughts of something else, Perhaps of something more.
Perhaps I am a coward, bound to step in footprints of world's pastime. When all I seek to tread is ground - tread never quite before. By legs of moms or legs of dads Or legs of those world wished it had Through generations good and bad As leaders through The War, Of Moral Value Declaratives (Framing Man and God and Law). Their sage advice no longer sought, I seek those wanting more. I seek those mixing colors, seeking good 'twixt the ghost that is evil. While gazing awes b'tween the seams - the seams of all the more. Where high is low and low is high And universal lullabyes Built solely on arrested sighs Of prophets locked indoors, Are freed to roam the stratosphere (far atop the skyline o'er), To lay to rest the old man's ways, In favor of the more.
In favor of the gentle, that which can quell the warm dread of our ancients. And this is why I cling to her - as a harbor from the gnaw. That strikes as if a vengeful God Armed head to toe with lightning rod Put forth to me His wrath at odds With teachings of His score, Which caused at once for me to coil (to turn from what's before), In favor of my lover's soul, Which keeps me wanting more.
04/05
|