Allow the undoing

Paradise falls, as we bury the feathers.
A crumbling collection of corroded attempts.
The remains of Babel mixed with the tears of God.
Never for me, only by your design.
Crafted out of an ego that you can never resign.
You lay siege on me with it.
Tapping at my glass heart.
Rapping into my bloody soul.
The storm around bellows.
Shaking the fragile shelves where I placed our love.
Like water in a vase, the love flows over.
Shaken by the ground swell and anger.
The sloshing an slashing make way.
Like a parade of sad elephants from your mouth.
Unravelling the red.
Undoing the gold.
I sit without a crown, without a king or queen by this side.
Eating the apples so justly plucked.
Watching it all swarm and swell.
Rip and rampage through it all.
Watching Rome burn and the walls fall.
Smiling, like mockingbirds in the dawn.
Allowing the earth to suck the air away from me.
Knowing this is truly a beginning.
Seeing the light once more reflected in tomorrow’s song.

06/05/202206/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: crown, debris, tomorrowTags: art, birds, crown, destruction, earth, fall, god, gold, king, poem, Poetry, queen, rome, tomorrow 4 Comments