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The Moth
The moth, she knows the flame will burn
But back again, again she comes,
Her velvet collisions dress the air,
Sparkling against these tempting embers
Where she throws herself over and over
Upon the most flickering of fascinations,
Such senseless self-immolation
Strips her to a carapace,
Leaving her scorched, naked, undressed, undone,
Beneath the tragic unravelling of her world.
Friday 8th April 2016 10:10 am
Giants of the Earth
Watch silently as earthly rumbles deep,
And as the world below drifts off to sleep,
A ghostly peak, refreshed beyond the glare.
Beauty in the vast, unparalleled,
Iridescent on one side of two,
Overcoat, to cast off; overdue,
Tremble underneath where others dwelled.
Tyrants roam, to crumble at their feet,
Crushed, reanimated in the wel...
Tuesday 15th January 2013 9:38 pm
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