The Garden of the Black Rose: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Drawback

The crying in darkness draws me to a sunken man,
his quiet eyes piercing the flesh of a shadowed land.
His mind plays in peace with a weakening world,
the pitiful lives pass him by,
timing in turn to stare him right back,
to a heart that never lies.
Mournful in death of a born-again land,
creation has turned his flame,
he is god,
he is death,
denying himself,
the devil in waiting,
he has changed.

All copyrights are acknowledged and those remain the property of the owners. Also these pages contain my opinions (unless otherwise specified), and thus, does not reflect the beliefs of others. The Garden of the Black Rose and its related pages are copyrighted (c)1998 by Ivy McKnight .