The Pilgrimage

[zeegrindylows]

At the round earth’s imagined corners, creep
you shriveled angel; blow the hollow horn
to rouse the world and all the dead from sleep.

The dying see the world and know it cheap.
We trip and stumble, and, with bodies torn,
at the round earth’s imagined corners creep.

What voice will come and bid us not to weep?
What lover is there now to try, forlorn,
to

Comments

[septentrion1970]

What? Menstrual cramps? Maybe it's true, but they still should do more for the pain. Or can't they? Hang on! *gentle hugs*