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christian poem

fällt hier kein Licht
sie limps mit dem Anhalten des schmerzlichen Schrittes
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
von der Sonne noch Sterne
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
in seinem vorsichtigen Zelt
aus dem Fenster heraus ein Meer der grünen Bäume
ich sterbe
wer der Läufer in den Himmeln ist

 



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