by

Et tu, Brute

This is a poem I wrote a very long time ago:

Thin shadows engulf the man,
They would wound the land.
As metal and human merge into sculpture
The birds fly south to dawn.
As one the glints light the shadows
And Juno cries a bloody tear.

The light scatters into a funeral pyre,
Eulogies shredding the country road.
A pair of bent candles snuffed by their own wax
Compelled by right of wrong.
These shadows are gone!
Names to be feared!

I set it to music and you can find that here.

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Posted in Personal,