Snow Without Distinction
From the swirling coffee-grounds
Of infinity
From the rolling burial-mounds
Of the ocean
Silent cries that separate
Yin from Yang
Black from white; and decorate
The heavens
Let us now set sail
To the gleaming prayer-wheels
Of antipathy
To the steaming ready-meals
Of emotion
Joyous cries of expectation
Cell-doors clang
To offer hope of liberation
Eleven's
The number of our tale
| Contributors: | Roland, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 13th April 2007 by trad. |