Aged Mirrors (51) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (51)
We enter the evening
Slow, legal,
With the passport of our pain.
Inside us: dead hours.
We don't know who kills us:
The demons of life
Or the demons of death.
Quiet evening.
Nothing left to conquer.
We realize
The peaks, the chasms, the valleys
Were always our own.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: spiritual
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8/12/2025 6:16:37 AM # 1.0.0
