August 22, 2015 § Leave a comment
God is dead.
For without a shadow of a doubt
I verily believe in truth of faith
A marvelous temple and the throne,
significant deviations from the way of life.
They heard, were embarrassed, and stood up.
Forgetful, now what I still heard of her
Over tumbled graves, the chapel reverberated
by cruel Fortune's undeserved blow
Twenty-five, more or less
Pots, and many of the physical subjected plagues,
in the name of an anonymous poverty.
Skyblue flag with motley circles of the night,
and those who carried garlands on their head,
also need to know who it collects,
the old town sack in his time.
- srn -