O
Out of a bed of love
When that immortal hospital made one more moove to soothe
The curless counted body,
...
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The crucible witch is life and death. All man's attempts to understand and make homage to the plurality of gods are explored here. A poem of deep and subtle images which needs to be read many times.
I climb to greet the war in which I have no heart but only That one dark I owe my light, To glow after the god stoning night It is only in the aftermath of war...or any darkness we may encounter... that we are truly able to fully appreciate the light in our lives...
If only for a last time. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.