In November gray,
I see silver threads are sewn.
In December’s blanket,
I smell the seeds that have been sewn.
Deep beneath the briar’s sting,
I can sense the beauty waiting.
Under the coverlet of Sol
I can see the storm abating.
Under your Vulcan’s shield,
I can see the smile of Eros.
Shining within, emerging slowly…
The Child of the Cosmos.
-To Justin
-Christian
BACK to CONTENTS
Please send any comments you have be they positive or constructively negative to me at:
© 1999 xangel@hotmail.com
This page hosted by
