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Burned-out candle of snow-white anger,
Rain and tulips, man and moon-trips;
On my way home from the reaches
I became a half-past preacher.
You deceivers, unbelievers,
Broken-hearted were we parted
From the state of perpetration
Set perpetual as our station;
Life my steeple, sheep as people,
No blind fate I contemplated,
Chaste the vow I said it grinning
Wed the wheel that set me spinning.
Now encased by heaven's grace, I
Bear bad weather, without ever
Knowing fear or understanding
What strange course caused my crash-landing
In this primate sea of my vanity,
Weaving splashes from sack and ashes.
Anger's candle burns love for others,
Contradicts: calls my sisters brothers.
photo: Stephen Alsford
|Created: November 17, 2014. Last modified: December 28, 2014.||© Stephen Alsford|