Illumination

The grain of the floor moving

Like the story that was written

On the inside of my ear

By the tooth of a wolf and sharpened pin

 

A monk with his plucked head

Chiseling away at the pages

His hands gracing over the

Tanned parchment pages

Telling the stories of the world

 

The skin tells the story

That the mouth does not

That the mouth can not

Look to the inside of my ear love,

 

And all that's left is me. 

Reviews

[A. Amos]

My friend your a good writter and keep creating the magic...