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Mark Ardent

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Harvest Moon


ardent

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Hushed whispers,

radiance recedes

and now, I come to life;

I can emerge,

unfold my wings

of regal hues,

of blue and black

and as the last rays of the dying sun,

blood red, now fall and falter

and the endless beauty,

splendour now arises all around,

so do I rise, so do I wake,

so do I fly.

Ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

come I will,

and come I must.

 

http://emdieta.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/guerreira_.jpg

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