by the setting of the sun
shall we all be undone
in the falling of the morning star
shows the dead dark depth
of our shame borne scar
dark are the dimlit days
of an empty birdless overvault
as the quaking bones of the earth
groan beneath our fallen feet
still is the air for lost breath breeze
she has flown, recalled home
for the great returning is at hand
all things lose voice
mute, mute
silence is the only cold king
while expectation reigns as queen
till –
first heard in heart than head
one blast does distant drone
one blow to bend-bow the knees
to rent heart that rides from the east
trailing life like a sacred spring
but this is only the end
for by the rising of the sun
shall we all be hard won
by the ever-present morning star
clean healing brings a borrowed worthiness
new priests, new kings we are
listen – the world cries GLORY!
Harnessing Chaos 
I like this poem Pete. So many elements of hope from the hoplessness of our shame borne scar are captured vividly in it\’s lines. Good work!
LikeLike