Behind the wind brightness expelled
Upon the land, behind the shadows
Luminous eruptions rise from the
Ground. This thought is done, the
Dreamscape found.
The devil is dying open-eyed and alive,
Droning sounds rise from the cracked
Earth. From the fissure comes radiance
And comfort. To what end is Mother Earth
Done, as her creation by God was to give
Birth.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
Poetry EBook on Amazon.com link in sidebar.
ann johnson-murphree 