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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1721456
This is a poem open to interpretation. I guess you could call it pastoral.
Come drench the saddened Earth with your cleansing waters.
Let the rivers free the dirt from the clutter that we bring.
The gray is stale anger, hate, destruction.
That is our natural form.
Bare and Naked, what are we but these things?
Gray blocks out the sun as it escapes into our atmosphere.
Waters! Come and cleanse the Earth so that we may breath again, and let the golden light shine on our path to lead the way so that we may create another gray.
The gold will burn the anger from my soul.
© Copyright 2010 T.A. Emz (vixey44 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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