Liar
Dark spirit
seals my eyes,
hides from me
how wise trees
recall lusty
summer green.
He says
they're dead,
and when I die
my pain will end
with his dubious gift
of nothingness.
But I don't believe
this lie
of passionless
eternal night,
for in my core I feel
tongues of flame,
searing grace
lifting me, like spring,
from winter's grave!
poem by Steven Federle
Added by Poetry Lover
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