Poetry

Evening Wolves

November 28, 2010

The nights! The nights!
Oh the fear of the wolves!
The way they take their quiet prey
and wear the starry crowns.

And the minutes –
Minos made with fangs,
on the declaration of the labyrinth
to reach the heaven’s gates.

Do and do,
and do and do;
the way to be assured,
for the opiated masses
who work the purchased pure.

The day! The dawn!
Oh the light, the light!
they shall fight the way it burns.
Their war against the final tragedy
ends with a spreading scent
of fire and of fur.

Zephaniah 3:3, Luke 11:46, Matthew 23:27

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1 Comment

  • Reply James McMahan November 29, 2010 at 12:16 am

    Love it, very thoughtful and deep. Great imagery

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