Bleed
I long for more, my wings to glide, to soar the soul, to bleed
The skies. For sacred blood, the light of death, to glean the
Flame, to capture breath. My seething ache, the flight of prose,
A shattered vase, a tortured soul. And bleeding wound, a
Fractured tear, the brine of blood, and savage fear. Thus forbidden,
The reign of peace, the soul alive, a cryptic beast. And liquid
Death, a mortal scar, the war of flesh, and wounds afar. And
Broken dreams, a bold rebuke, the torch of faith, and blatant truth.
I long for more, my wings to glide, to soar the soul, to bleed
The skies. For humble pride, the width of pain, a spear to heart,
A spark aflame. My writhing core, afloat the lake, the cringe of
Death, a crooked fate. And born to bleed, the birth of love, the
Source of Christ, the force of blood. Thus forbidden, the reign of
Peace, the soul alive, a cryptic beast.
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Comments
Hi Glenn........"And born to bleed, the birth of love, the soul of Christ, the force of blood......" sounds like this piece is about Jesus.......I may be wrong......but it sure could be interpreted that way.....either way, this another one of those brilliant writes that I'm sure have got to be gratifying to write.......brilliant G.........well done my friend........love......t xx
I thank you, Tony.