The crack

The crack

 

The crack was deep the process long endured,
to straddle chasms opened in the mind,
as psyche struggled with the gaping yaw,
which threatened sense and sanity devoured.

As reason wept and held to chilling edge,
so angels whispered, breathless at the side,
and Soul did hover helpless, but ensured,
and Self could only grip as madness prised.

So cold the darkness sucked beneath belief,
as truth’s black, frozen fingers held the hour,
and courage  brought horizon’s hopes to birth;
embedded in the ice, love’s fragile flower.

The crack was deep the process long endured,
to straddle chasms opened in the mind,
as psyche struggled with the gaping yaw,
to bring to being life’s eternal power.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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