deepundergroundpoetry.com

Descent

In gothic arches of echoes,
The way of the entry
Mutes terpsichorean harpsichords,

Recorded

In

Golden chords, distorted:

The sun

Becomes

One

That is none,
As the gravity of cold

Summons
The
Soul,

Never to be sold -
To have and to

Hold,

Sole friend - next to the end,

Here -
To
Descend,

Into the land
Of only darkness,

Depth

&

Distance,

In the throes

Of

Echoes...

Throes

Of

Echoes...