Thy Hand So Cruel

October 19, 2011
They say that the Earth was woven
of hopes and soil roughly sewn

Droplets of life
moistened the air and ground,
their voice of harmony
yet to be found

Molten gold coursed through veins of stone,
saccharine sugars through cellulose bone,
orphaned creatures sit cold and alone
begging the gods to atone

The dark of night stifles little eyes,
little voices beg for sunrise--
if only they knew the lies

For when the horizon
births the sun,
There’s a wondering if truly
thy will be done

And we learn
the warmth that rushes through
the soul
is only destined to be snatched away
by Nightfall’s hand so cruel

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