The Songs Of A Dove

The songs of a dove

pour into the Holy grail.

Let them forever flow

through the ventricles of

my jaded heart when

I call out to the Lord

in askance for my own revival.

Satin white sheets drape

the halls of creation.

I tug at them.

They fall into my arms.

I lay them down on the floor,

spreading them out to create

a bed I may lay on.

I gather a heavy, musky scented

blanket lying on the cold damp floor,

and use it to cover myself.

I grab a musty pillow next to me,

fluffit it up, and lay my head upon it.

All alone in the dark, I brace myself

as the thunder and lightening crash into

the gray clouds, and rain upon my head

seeping through the holes in my roof.

My entire body trembles.

I swalowled up by my own fear of the darkness.

Tides of emotion consume me, as teardrops

lull me off to sleep into a foreboding world

with contempt.

(c) Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

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