Esoteric Bowl

I died right the first time
Truth in word and scars
Knocked on a night sky
An echo shook the stars
Prayed with incense burning
Pockets full of charms
Made love to an angel
then she died in my arms

In silent moments yearning
Between golden whispers
and transient glances
I think of what might have been

I died right the first time
Wings and dreams disjointed
Infernal stones of blame are thrown
for drowning in a pool of strife
Extended index fingers pointed
to the charge of a wasted life.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 14th, 2005 at 11:54 pm and is filed under poetry, General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.