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christian poetry

ich gehe meine Weise complacently
Töchter der Zeit
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
weich weinend
alle jene Schätze, die liegen

 



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