In Every Grief-Stricken Blues - text

I believe these pale bones are mine
And all this dust over that grave
Today should float and twist and whirl
Along the smoke of my loose wraith

In every grief-stricken blues
I feel the woe of that old scene
When lying dead under their feet
I cheered out loud at my new Self!

Futile puzzles I leave behind
Hastin my skin to peel & grind
Before thy essence vanishes
And torn out my soul to pieces

What I hear now, what I can see
Is part of a greater degree
And as I'm crawling back to start
I design and write my own Light

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Meet Us at the Southern Sign

Glorior Bellitexty

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