Truth

The shining rivers
in the darkened pits
of the valleys

The orange blood
in the sacred autumn leaves

The sparkle deep within
the blackbird song
in the mist of a november morning

The longing born in the blast
of a hunters rifle

Pureness of nature
The holy light in every darkness

All of these
sacred to me
as the bridge from death to life
for being fragments of you



Poetry by Geir Ove Kvalheim
Read 620 times
Written on 2012-10-02 at 14:22

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