Salvation
A crow is calling, can you hear?It echoes through the nightly air
What business has it here, this place
To wake me from my slumbering daze?
The wind is howling, filled with rage
To break me from my golden cage
The attempt is fruitless, it must fail
No eyes can see beneath this veil
The rose is blushing, sacred scent
From God himself, the grace is lent
Could its beauty melt this frost
Or is salvation all but lost
My soul is waking, free at last
Divided from my solemn past
I greet the dawn, born anew
And lie among the pearly dew
Poetry by Melancholia
Read 862 times
Written on 2005-09-04 at 01:31
Tags Warmth 
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