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christian poetry

ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
à l'aube, il a dit
glooms des vivre-chênes
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
ceux sur le supérieur indiquent qu'elles vous connaissent, la terre -- elles sont des menteurs
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
je vais ma manière complacently
dans votre vol
ce qui nous fera maintenant
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé

 



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