Ora Mis

A silent hope's distant dream that lips will bond like pilgrims' hands will pray,

The fates have deemed me unworthy and continue to cast me astray,

A gentle touch upon cheeks of roses to summon wings of joy from deep below,

Fires light up upon my gaze with flies that flutter and glow,

An Ora Mis with beauty, florescence and enchantment of what is bound to loom,

A flower of grace and harmony in the forest that's left alone to bloom,

Words of truth left unheard and unsaid remain trapped in prisons of white,

A river of black flows calm and slow forming poems of the night...

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