TRU KNOW TIME.


AFORE BEAUTY DIES


Where fallow stayed accessible for years
gleaming in its coldest nightstones; calling
inside the forests snow-covered darkness
as night grew all its frost ready; to cling

Watching the remains sunken down in blood.


(My intensive double eyes
telling about my earlier lives,
remember now my clearest traces.)


Following my longings impossible demands,

That,

which never at any time will caress;
cutting a heart that thought too hard: My grave.

And all my beauty is now dead, as yours,
which in all of you so wrench and aggrieve
Missing me. My longing is cured.

FINDING. AM. BRED.
I am the new essence matured.

Extinguishing all my wounds suffering,
and awake, afore beauty dies, once more.




Poetry by 1 SIGFRIDSSON
Read 170 times
Written on 2023-09-15 at 16:38

Tags Beauty  Wounds  Essence 

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