6 december 2011

poetry

Jon Hark
Jon Hark

Fall From Grace

Ethereal Eye
Toward the sky

Seeing all there was but
Not what can become
Real

A blind God
Did he not see?

We are just puppets
We cut our strings and
Fall

Love is a diseased joke
And yet I feel like I need
To catch this sickness
To understand this riddle

Life is Chaos

Hold me still my love
Take me back to Grace

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