Crimson Cries
By Myra Lochner
There is a flower growing in a graveyard shedding its flowers on stone that flower being the Love of a country barren to the bone and still blooming the crimson passion of an unseen Throne … Love watered from the well of Pain but Pain sustained by this same Love and deep Compassion: the Heart of Brilliance But human touch makes Love immortal in its imperfection Thus God does feel the need to reach out and uplift the mortal spirit to heights of Purity Words are only words unable to draw the scribbles of my pain merely distorting the braille of this metalic brain this blind connection cannot read my feelings words are only spacing the silences of my yearning which is not to be manipulated by tactile taskbars by edit view insert by delete or save or print by trojan or virus or sharp pointed smile stars ... my Soul is programmed by Sadness and by Love and flowers blooming crimson cries in desolution myraQuiet, Soul ... hear then the crimson cries ... Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 10 2002 07:09 AM PST, Myra Lochner 10 • 0 • 1
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"There is a flower growing..."