Smaller Poems 1

The Divine to the Mortal

To the lonely acolyte,

who prays in the cold tonight.

Worship is your only right.

Do not think

that I do not see your warm light.

Stay strong,

my mortal knight

for I hear your chants of worship

through the silent night.

Kindness favours

Kindness favours softly,

with an fierce burning,

to the one who sings fruitfully,

of love that is worth living.

Please excuse me...

For I must apologies to my invisible wings for

holding the cement chains of vivid burdens.

In which they are getting

heavier, heavier, heavier

with each

light flap.

Makes

it

feel

like

I

am;

fall

-ing

fall

-ing

fall

-ing.

.

.

.