Sunday, February 26, 2012

Midnight Sepia.

Have I been writing to a ghost? 
Sleeping silently with all the words that mean most
I've fallen 
breezy, a hazy nothing
an empty case, scripted in image
livid, in chains
living, in chains
bound by my own being, I have forgotten how to live.

But Your light has shown, screeching through all that I've known

You've cut these chains. Set me free. 
Under the moonlit night, bound by Your love
Bound by Your being.

A Midnight Sepia, seeping.


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