Poetry from a Time Forgotten for Sunday, July 13, 2008

Sunday, July 13, 2008

New Emergence

I'm up with the bird who got the worm; the blossom that received the first light of dawn, the one whose pen runs across a faded journal. A prayer echoes inside silent caverns in soul chimes. The stone is marked in language of etched aether. Its Maker reads every line, interprets the call; spirit... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Ariala at 5:42 AM | add or view comments (19) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry
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