from your fingertips flow
all of creation’s music
(and we, the jealous mortals,
weep
at your caress.) [play us a melody, thou piper!]
how many,
i wonder,
have fallen before your touch,
only to fall to the wayside? [you know, as i know,
that it is a delicious great many]
and oh yes,
the blood of the innocents
will drip from your shaking hands
until they shine like alabaster
[be the god that we cannot
and allow us to live
in your glorious shadow]
for we are not
as proud
as you can be so deserve it.
Comments
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*blinks a few times*...damn. I'm really likin' this Wurthy, *does a little happy dance, loves when you do your series poems*
*looks at the last line, eye twitches slightly*
if someguy was holding a gun to my head and told me to pick a favorite part or die....(well, I'd get my fucking mecha and pwn the bitch....but...) I'd pick....
" [be the god that we cannot
and allow us to live
in your glorious shadow] "
this is fantastic, but then i like everything you write...*sends out a massive world-wide bulletin saying to praise wurthy or be destroyed*
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