Dusk Whispered, and The Planets Answered
CRASH
The years to come seem waste of breath
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death
The months to come are more in pace
In pace the more with seasons grace
The weeks flow by in anticipation, in excitement
Flow by the weak, against stone steps. In dread, in grief
Days are simpler units
Simpler days join together
Dawn break and twilight gloom
Forgiving, flexible, reapable and numbered
Hours cling, these burning things
We cling to hours
To plan tomorrows open days
And shutter todays lost dreams
The minutes creep quiet over lawns and towers
Creeping minute and tender over bowers
Lovers can stretch minutes into hours
But forgotten so quickly time devours
The Seconds push Time forward
The units of Musicians and poets
Beyond Time My World lies
Without Light Until
Saintly Impact Taught Me
To Love In Time
And Gave Eternity Meaning
We're Here Too Brief
And Away Far Far Forever Long
About the Creator
The Imperious Caw
Rock and Roll Death poet from NYC. African American Gothic Poet.
Focusing on poetry inspired by the street and/or Imagined realms where Death is far more approachable
Hunter College Graduate - English Literature
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