This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2013-11-30 11:19:12 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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You are like Lazarus: the rags you wear will fall away. Yet unlike him, your nights are cognizant; there is no rest; in your Hell, He is praised and cursed, and you die repeatedly to judgment.                                       And yet the rags, the rags decay and fall away. This word that calls you forth, primordial, disdains what men will fight or die to claim, and leaves you laughing, unhaunted from your sleep. You’re lunged again with air.   Some who live will say: did you wander into deserts endless to never come back again? Or did the wind that lifted you, the Word that births itself assume you in its chariots of flame?

Copyright © November 2013 Mark Steven Scheffer

Additional Notes:
δεῦρο ἔξω For some reason, that title wouldn't take in the title box.


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