Roarer, I Claim the Pit

The path beaten

is blown up.

—You blew it.

 

Tightrope walking,

fear of falling, thrill of

slow-motion, guilt-weighted

flesh-stripping tumble

down down

the Pit of Soul.

 

(Wake!)

Loose the chill

hand of nightmare

—and shake it.

Cross hell to climb heaven.

Advertisements