Just remember to breathe
and maybe that’s all there is
to believe
Even stars fall to the earth
and light fades to become
this flesh we wear
An ancient apocalypse written
in new dialects of post-modern angst
from skylines and seashores
to mud huts and tin roofs
The God we search for lives
in these temples of blood and bone
not the shrines of sticks and stone
Egyptians would worship the rising sun
and their heiroglyphics depict
a serpent wrapped around a sun
and the story of an eclipse
and the eternal darkness that bathed
adam and eve’s garden a celestial apocalypse
of a darkened sun and a blood red moon
tales of the longest night and of the first day
in the unwritten languages of dreams
living underneath this skin
About the Creator
Beth
When words aren’t enough, poetry finds a way. My poems explore life's mundane beauty, moments that make themselves unforgettable, and also dips it's toes into the philosophical attempting to understand who we are, where we came from.
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