Saturday, April 26, 2014

26

Mad with a martyr's desire we burn on
holy ground. The crumbling architecture
of burned out cathedrals, ribs opening
to the sky. our hearts the fused
stained glass free to shatter again.
Iconography reduced into a fine ash,
carried away with the final breath
of reason. The slumped gold of a gods
dream looted. With the ecstatic release
of trapped prayers let us crumble
before time into the ruins of each other



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