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