A grey tone; cold dark sky.
Bladed beaks outside my windows
… Peck, peck is a constant drumming.
It wants to be in.
To gash through the newly built walls.
They are fragile; it knows.
Wild vines poke up the floor.
Ravenously growing once inside.
Deceiving with bright white plumes that stare to the sky,
It defiles and desecrates growing in all directions.
Remove the poisons. The light now grows dim.
The stores are closing. We are certain,
Time runs scarce; ready to pay the toll.
Atonements, all are due.
To purchase the Right, is to not be short changed.
If I cash out, will the difference add up?
Transgression by way of imperfection; but still,
Designed and desired.
Infinite chances; go back again.
To prepare; Two prevent.
Twice before have I faltered,
And more than twice, once again.
One. One for all.
Constant squandering; seemingly,
None for One.
Measures of value in blood,
Not in weight of precious metal.
But blood; engorged; sufficiency.
In deficit or of absence.
© Copyright 2016 KE Caldwell. All rights reserved.
Poem / Religion and Spirituality
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