A Hand at the End of the World
In grip of feverish fear, through fuzzy lights
Seen through a black and painted sea,
She waits – For the world, and it’s end.
Her timid hands clasp tight under rocking waves -
as she breathes icicles of cold sea
Still, she waits – For the world, and it’s end.
The distant roar of faint mountain sounds,
Peals of thunder and cracks of lightning abound
As she waits – Far from home
For the world and it’s end.
Alone – She fights her faith and fear
As a ghostly wind howls in blackest night.
She drifts with the gentle caress of waves,
Watched raptly by lurking creatures of deep.
She drifts Into the eye of the storm
With bated breath and eyes shut tight as
She waits – For her world, and its end.
Twinkling stars gaze in dark sorrow at her shadow
She waits – her heart in her hand.
With weary bones – she waits
For the peace of slumber,
and a hand to hold –
At the end of the world.
|Faith is fear turned inward|