Tuesday, January 15, 2013

When I Speak

When I speak

I want it to be as if the gates of hell hath opened

Releasing a fire deep from its heart

Consuming all repose

Claiming all its kin

Only that which is pure from heaven

Or blessed there of



When I write

I want it to be as if the first to ever etch a form of meaning for another to comprehend

Guided my hand

Allowing only truth  to take shape

Allowing all that is real to transcend time

Not that my name live forever (“if it did I would not complain.” the flesh speaks.)

That which is Art remain.


When I love

Let it be the only word needed


©Christopher F. Brown 2013


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