Centuries of gifts

Centuries of gifts

13 June 2020

Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Walk with me

in meadows of green

I am witch

of the land

The time is but creeping sand

passing through fingers

 

Death lingers

on the land’s outskirts

Body hurts

as it breeds

swallows fears that it yet feeds

Dichotomy’s stance

 

The shining

Magic awoken

from my heart

to my hands

They give and don’t make demands

Centuries of gifts

 

Reading of the poem:

Antaeus – Kyrie

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