Blue Moon

The Saturday fell awkward into the night. 

Good night. 

 

Fellow men and moon. 

Raising beneath the stars. 

 

A hollow man stands with great power. 

And those below sit fingerless and bored. 

 

To the bone. 

 

 The fatherly figures are but the graceless endless sight. 

In the eyes of the blind fool. 

 

Grasping to grip a straw that waits no longer. 

The shallowly splintered weeds swallow the sun in the clasp of a burning hand. 

 

The Sunday collapses to morning.

◄ Flying, to be free

God ►

Comments

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adrian metcalf

Sat 9th Feb 2019 14:34

Thank you very much ?

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Jason Bayliss

Sat 9th Feb 2019 11:13

That was so good I'm going to have to re-read it a couple of times.

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