Wednesday, December 31, 2014

the watchful woman . . .

And God said to me, Paint: 

Time is the canvas 
stretched by my pain:

the watchful woman, 
the wounds of Christ, 
the city’s sad bacchanals, 
the madness of kings. 

And God said to me, Go forth:

For I am king of time.
But to you I am only the shadowy one 
who knows with you your loneliness 
and sees through your eyes. 

He sees through my eyes in all the ages.


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