
Your words,
sweet as honey,
turn sour within,
still I must speak
of what I know is coming,
and what has always been
since the beginning.
Creation
constant changes,
one day, never the same
as the one before,
slips now right and left,
rises to implore
impending signs of death.
What of this death
I often think,
this end we barely see,
beyond the cliffs
a dark abyss,
is it simply grave
and shadow?
Pass through
the hanging depths,
and look upon
the place that lies
quietly within,
where calm alone exists
and joy is found.
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Copyright © 2024, Robert G. Metivier. All Rights Reserved.
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Beautiful poem, especially the final stanza…