In my dreams.
I look through the wilting foliage.
And see an onyx great-horned owl.
It calls to offer solace to the coven of sisters I've joined.
For see, this lot have been violated by the wanton and brash desires of man.
Bodies of grown men with the minds of boys.
Childish and pig-headed.
Loved only in the dark are these sisters.
Yet the world sees them as evil regardless of the transgressions committed against them.
They could take glitter and shine that shit to gold.
The first sister, in the image of the onyx owl.
Hooting in a darkened marsh she was cast into.
A proud ebony ram atop the highest of peaks.
The teal pheasant in the seas of dead grass.
The bleak white stag, elegant and poised in a field of bright red flowers.
And the dove singing sorrowful songs in a golden cage.
This sovereignty, this grace.
This 'blight' under baleful heavens.
Salvation to bring about the last days of man.
This coven of sisters will tear open hearts and drink deeply.
In final moments, the world itself would beg for forgiveness in the eyes of transgression and sin.
Yet, these are the final moments of man.
And this coven, not men.
Have no numbered days.
YOU ARE READING
Sunrise or Sunset; The Garden of Hugs
PoetryHey all! This is just a collection of primarily free-verse poems I've created. Every poem is a different flower with a theme. To give the feeling of warmth and healing. With a sprinkling of finding resilience from within. That is the overall goal. E...
