My pulse is a puzzle with pieces misplaced a hazy maze running breakneck pace I chase Your grace but the grace outraced faith tripped twice and fell on its face
By Halestorm2 months ago in Poets
Fields of hollow bone, Wind feeds on the starving earth, Silence gnaws the stone.
By Halestorm3 months ago in Poets
The trees I loved when I was small still stand though time reclaimed it all. Their bark is cracked, their branches thin, but memory still lives within.
Before the first frost, I still believed, that faith was warmth you could perceive. That God was sun, not hidden sky.
