The Staircase

By eske

The Staircase
On the May of cold;
the air heralds rain.
From the rain rose a man.
Born from the water,
arose in the mist of July.

The sun shone through.
The leafs green covered in white.
Engulfed in the white light.

As the elements burned the outlines,
the cloud called dream did cry.
Fell upon a winding staircase that grew down.

Here, the truth lay under the carpet of black.
Blackness engulfed the truth, wonder why it lay.

Why must the truth sleep in the dark?

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2010 eske
Published on Thursday, May 13, 2010.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "The Staircase"

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  • Wiccad On Friday, May 14, 2010, Wiccad (124)By person wrote:

    "The cloud called dream did cry" I loved this line. You have a gift and I think you should keep sharing wityh us.

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