deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cristes-messe

 
 
 
 
the wind is as still as  
a small child sleeping,  
 
but if you listen carefully  
 
you can hear the whispers  
of prayers in the air.  
 
churches with be filled  
tonight,  
candles lit in choirs of  
light.  
 
peace will be asked  
for,  
 
hoped for.  
 
peace,  
 
what a strange and  
curious beast.  
 
peace,  
 
a beautiful white horse  
running wild through  
the frost and shadows  
of moonbeams  
 
that men can
never fully
capture.
Written by buddhakitty
Published
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