Untitled Poem

Where doth thy angel fly?
Fortune smiles yet speaketh not prophecy
Let not thine ears miss my words
Spoken not by lips of wrath
Nor by foolish tongue
Verily, I speak
And writeth with mine own hand
Thou hast learned a host of thought
Yet thou hast put me asunder
And thou hast strengthened me
All must come to pass
Thou art my past
Thou art my song
Singing unto the wind
Played by musicians of my soul
And thine angel flieth
At the choir’s note

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s