Sunday, October 7, 2007

Weaver

She sleeps today, covered by dreams.
Her hands weaving herself into place
Her life, her story.
Picturesque, un-earth-bound.
A shooting star in a darkening age
Still; I watch her plummet upwards
Toward an ever brightening sky
Glory not without merit,
Beauty not without sacrifice
The angel riseth,
Her kingdom come.

2 comments:

savante said...

Lemme get my old Lit books out and try to interpret this!

-C said...

Yay! *huggle*