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Undefined Glory
January 22, 2010
My eyes are icy to the cold glares of the sun,
And fiery hot to the moon's crescent in the morrow,
The gaze of our sights shows us nothing of fear,
but of our passion to strive for more,
In comparison the moon is the healer of all wounds,
Making not our body but our soul heal to the extremes of man,
Waiting all around sits the hatred of the world,
laid in the back of the most hollow heart,
waiting for its chance to come forth to its rightful place next to love.
© Ezekiel R.
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