Finde ich dein Heim?

I expected more of Zeus, his zealous
rain did not blind. I wandered my gaze
into clouds of wet wreckage, their spillage
my folly, my folly a drunken morning.
I opened my mouth, a gap as chaos called,
and let all the songs of humanity to bear.
I was the falling muse, my cold hands in
my pockets, my wet coat on my back, I
did not break asunder nor blink, I hoped
for better days and of better things, my
poison help from progenic home had tainted
my signs of sun, and led me to clouds
to train. I felt my eyes look up and back,
my image spun from clouds of Gods beset,
searching for the longest way around,
the shortest way through, to You, my Reader.


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