gold has fallen, Gold.
not the gold of empires;Light.
it's slanted glory across
our hearts, departing in
the season of sighs.
now are we numb;
again the harps
hung in the willows.
ourselves, our own exiles,
the ash of roses composed.
the last of the shadows surging.
and for no prize at all.
why will you persist in counting out
counting out and hoarding
the honey of our days
net worth of souls.ah, the expedient!
you who know branding so well.
banished, in one hand
quiet and no fool's gold,
the luminous love of our Lord
Candle beyond all candles
lighting our way.
and in the other,
the weight of trembling.nothing.
the blackbirds counted out
from dubious pies arising
have flown laquered into the ionesphere.
the lacklustre zones.
will you still keep
vetting the lachrimosa,
your professional demeanor,
your resumes of snow?
all verse is blank.
the cclipse drawn in crayons
by small children who know
this is no longer
the harbinger of fear
in nursery tales
but fear itself and terrorizing.
Jacob's angel in the bent dawns.
all wrong on display
in the museum of Song
for the chuldren's field trips where.
Beauty went
weeping, away, the.last moon
over the monsoon
with the Ark new furnished now.
what more can be implored.
and Infinite Love the dazzling,
the last beggar at your door.
the world awash in rain.
mary angela douglas 3 may 2018
not the gold of empires;Light.
it's slanted glory across
our hearts, departing in
the season of sighs.
now are we numb;
again the harps
hung in the willows.
ourselves, our own exiles,
the ash of roses composed.
the last of the shadows surging.
and for no prize at all.
why will you persist in counting out
counting out and hoarding
the honey of our days
net worth of souls.ah, the expedient!
you who know branding so well.
banished, in one hand
quiet and no fool's gold,
the luminous love of our Lord
Candle beyond all candles
lighting our way.
and in the other,
the weight of trembling.nothing.
the blackbirds counted out
from dubious pies arising
have flown laquered into the ionesphere.
the lacklustre zones.
will you still keep
vetting the lachrimosa,
your professional demeanor,
your resumes of snow?
all verse is blank.
the cclipse drawn in crayons
by small children who know
this is no longer
the harbinger of fear
in nursery tales
but fear itself and terrorizing.
Jacob's angel in the bent dawns.
all wrong on display
in the museum of Song
for the chuldren's field trips where.
Beauty went
weeping, away, the.last moon
over the monsoon
with the Ark new furnished now.
what more can be implored.
and Infinite Love the dazzling,
the last beggar at your door.
the world awash in rain.
mary angela douglas 3 may 2018
