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Joy in Poverty
The aftermath of rain
muggy qualities that belie
a cleansing repute.
Dusty clouds fade, not sacrosanct
revealing,
bridges that span the beaten sky.
There is no tenet I can cling too,
no expression of faith without impurities,
to fill my empty cup.
I fall to my knees
to make angels,
in the mud, from which I'm born.
The last stanza comes as a
The last stanza comes as a surprise and a very powerful metaphor after reading the others. I like the "swerve" in the last line.
Starward
I am happy that you see it, I
I am happy that you see it, I read my words and hope they aren't to vague or confusing. You have a very good mind/eye.