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Mark White Poem
Time cascades like falling leaves
Floating where the wild winds gust
A moment past, forever lost
Enveloped in a stream of years
To be, to cease, to drift away
Some distant place awaits beyond
Remote, unyielding, surpassing measure
To liberate all past constraint
The wild winds surge before this place
Scattering leaves within its squall
Their brief meanders carried thence
To fade from sight and dwell in thought
At peace they lay where’er they gather
No longer scarred by storms endured
Resting below tranquil skies
Casting ubiquitous age afar
To know not all they came to be
And be as one with eternity
Something new will lead them on
Towards a glimmer of what’s to come
Behind them, chants a parting prayer
To serve reminder whence they came
The trees they cloaked, now all laid bare
To bear the scars ’til healed by time
Time cascades where leaves have fallen
The wild winds rage, the leaves to blow
And carry forth when end is nigh
To each and all they come to surge
The lessons of a lifetime spent
Each precious act of selfless love
All ripple back across the years
Through aching tears, with fond farewell
© Arcana
Copyright © Mark White | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Mark White Poem
Night air shivers in restless repose
To pallid dreams of dorment desire
Creaking groans of lost souls moan
Some poor tortured thing may haunt
Besieged by phantasmagoric demons
Lest blood deceive pernicious tales
Crumbling corridors hear chants that echo
Midst gossamer embraces that flicker intent
Bibles smoulder their pitiful surrender
An effigy of crucified Christ beholds
Soulless eyes invite submission
Cradling esurient sanguine lust
Shrouds cascade in flowing tatters
Whispers waft upon dank air
Inviting fleeting prayers murmered
A weeping tear on cheek to bare
Crucifix clutched with growing fervour
Defends this depraved decadent dance
Beguiled in spidery webs uncertain
A purifying presence subdues perchance
Screams descend as fiery infernos
Like dancing flame to spiralling moth
Ash cascades as falling snowflakes
Melting like the morning frost
© Arcana
Copyright © Mark White | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Mark White Poem
I come to you from my lake of dreams
Crossing the divide between worlds
You called me with your tears
That echo through the void
Your grief drowns in thoughts
Worn sadly upon your brow
It fills me with yearning lament
That sparkles with dripping jewels
My embrace will slowly fade
As I wash away your pain
And bathe in all your sorrow
Cleansing your tortured soul
This lake swells with tears
My world exists in pale reflections
Your heartbreak sustains my essence
For I dwell in despondent abandon
I leave you purged of woe
As I submerge between worlds
Clutching your precious jewels
To ripple upon my shores
© Arcana
Copyright © Mark White | Year Posted 2022
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