innocent (Remove filter)
Purpose
She, born of the forge and cast from the pyre,
The fire of her birth soon vanished to iron,
Cold and lifeless, but still with a purpose
And then, from the worthless womb of coals
She falls.
Her sisters, countless in their tumble
Collide and stumble to the four corners
Of the earth. Rapidly consumed
Exhumed for a thousand years
Or perhaps two…
Here she, in the wood of ...
Wednesday 9th October 2013 3:09 pm
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on One Tear at a Time
10 minutes ago
Nigel Astell on Synchronicities of life
1 hour ago
Nigel Astell on Happy Hours for the Edgeley Faithful Extended
1 hour ago
Tim Higbee on The Wind Whispers........
2 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on Celebrate St George's Day
2 hours ago
Tim Higbee on You
2 hours ago
Auracle on Shimmering Light
3 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Is it?
3 hours ago
Wordseffectbrew on Piñata Earth
4 hours ago
leon stolgard on Is it?
5 hours ago