The second Thread (Part 2) Registered & Protected  8XPV-XEYB-OVHP-5WF2

( To be read fast, and loud. Try it a couple of time. You will feel the message.)

Ascending through melting ice with fingernails of steel

with skin in shreds, but all I feel,

is faded specs, and rolling tears,

of thick silver ink, my lost frontier.

I think all along it had to be,

the way it flows so slow, but solid out of me,

so I bow to the gift,

which brings my sad soul to it’s knees,

sensing a descending shift,

as I am handed the fleece

Woven in all earthen shades

and in humbleness it lays,

in burning hands which shake

already missing beloved colder days

I am to carry it through shields of stone

while it touches the core of everything

millions of years of pressed hollow bone

as out of dying seas we are spiraling

Now deeply mourning, the waters gone

it’s telling me that nothing will be lost

but visible to none

And soon the first frost,

will be in void of diamonds

as the golden autumn

is followed by unearthly silence.

Screaming deep into this broken shell,

my hands drifting apart –

begging the earthen fleece to dispel

this dooming death and wrath

Now drifting into hell, for the fault was mine

so vainly blinded by the gift in haste

I now look straight into the Devine!

– and at the year’s first sparkling flakes

@All content, including Photography, Poetry and all segments of the Script Walking with Scars, by Simone vanHove-Emery 2017@allrightsreserved

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