Sunday, August 31, 2008

Sun of York

The shoulders of a king
where time flows through some roughend eye
makes not only believers but descends to where ashes now lay.
This can't be the peace we hoped for

were we not deserving of something more?

These sincere despots quickly setting their minds
to darkness and end times, they feel and think and breathe and hope
but only to the end of their own days.

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