This Boundless Glory (TH)
Lost wandering the road
for his muse’s encouraging whisper,
the poet tucks himself away
in a hollow trunk’s belly
& begins to weep
knowing all too well
there is nothing
to be created
that could match
this boundless glory.
No Birds Sing Now (TH)
No birds sing now in this landscape void of life, of love, of light. Nests dismantled, the tabernacle destroyed. Every voice lifted into one higher being straight from the page to the hand that wrote the book.
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