deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Scouring
The slanted avenue is washed
with hard and scouring sunlight.
A glorious inquisitor,
the molten sky rips out
all of Nature’s medicaments,
its mesmerist witchcraft.
Passing by yet bound
I drink the leaning trees, the ground,
with eyes that briefly, then,
are clean. And when
the passing is complete
a dim-lit thought remains:
I never felt nearer the gods.
with hard and scouring sunlight.
A glorious inquisitor,
the molten sky rips out
all of Nature’s medicaments,
its mesmerist witchcraft.
Passing by yet bound
I drink the leaning trees, the ground,
with eyes that briefly, then,
are clean. And when
the passing is complete
a dim-lit thought remains:
I never felt nearer the gods.
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