Eight Ways Of The Saints
Now gentle Love you guide us in your reign
which rules a night whose stars at last align
and tiers of passion mirror from it's pane
Parched, featureless lone landscape of the plain
when winds of oaths, rapt thunder, light entwine,
now gentle, Love you guide us in your rain
A past too often wasted, spent in vain
now forwards to a night where two combine
and tears of passion mirror from it's pain
Emotions run, wild horses through our veins
spent, flared nostrals I whinny near equine
now gentle Love, you guide us in your rein
Moon who moves the oceans, as this night wanes,
hope's passed to Sun with it's reflective shine
and tears of passion mirror from it's pane
As gods not of this earth two souls ordain
our share'd throne in throes of the devine,
now gentle Love you guide us in your reign
and tears of passion mirror from it's pain
poem by Richard S. Wells
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
