WD 52 “Good Friday Night”

A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth.

Good Friday Night

I don’t sleep anymore

There’s a shadow on the face of the clock and its

Sliding backwards across the spiral of the glass

We never rose

But we were buried 

And how can anyone return to the womb?

–

–

He bled 

Splintered like Dante’s suicide

Pierced like Julius Caesar

And when he was laid in the darkness it began being finished

–

–

But I have less blood to draw

Though I am inspired by his bleeding

And the divine spark

Does not rule in every member 

Light, Dark

Life, Death

And twilight 

And we are a sinner

And we are still awake inside the tomb.