The Chosen

The Chosen

The Chosen
Beyond the World there lies a Fragile Spider’s Web
Pagan Death

Divine promise
remained loyal to itself,
playing with the cracks around it.
The sap of the living explained this unconditionality.
The law created meaning
and loyally drank up all the blood.
Loyalty to oneself is
a sharp knife
in the heart of divine promise.

Fallen angles,
smitten with gifts,
resting in mid-sky.
Sterile thunder,
again and again,
but nothing fell asunder.
The impure have
skipped perfection
and did not quake
before the flattering shield.
They reached into condition
and covered the cloud.
The shield crumbled.
The fallen angels did not fall.

AuthorPrimož Repar
2018-08-21T17:23:54+00:00 April 1st, 2000|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 14|0 Comments