The Harrowed Man


The Harrowed Man

The glimmers thus conveyed through the sun

Smeared away in golden hues almost like pun

That wasn’t intended by the summons of the day

And not by the chronicles of the night in disarray

The dews thus scorched dry before the rain

That held the holy words of fate but in vain

Not overlooked or overestimated by any means

Not overshadowed or disoriented by harrowed beans

Hitherto the empty fields staring the deep blues high

With no whispers or threatened voices’ in mute cry

The nature of nature still undetermined in remembrance

The shades of flora or the personification of fauna hence

Flows along the ridge where the streams of light ran

And splurges of gone glimmers just giggle on the Man

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