Salvation Lost
Wild and tempestuous fires arise in me,
calling forth the cold regrets which plague every man
The clouds stir and thunder splits the world asunder...
a flash of melted memories
carved into the cookie-cutter shapes
of christmas trees, snowmen, and stars
It is a pretense to the story enacted in my mind
A pre-beginning, looking as if it will mould the rest-
Praises are sung to the mountains and the stars,
no one deeming to notice the whistling whisper,
breathing slow and evenly on the back of their necks
until the hair stands up
The whisper floats above and onward unanswered.
They do not know that they have missed opportunity's quiet knocking.
poem by Poet Dragon
Added by Poetry Lover
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