Oh how these days came to swell
In the season of explosions
Turning over to where I fell
From the ceiling of my transgressions;
I could the feel the build
Rushing up behind me in tow
Like the end of days was spilled
And I could only stand and know;
Waiting for the moment to dissolve
Into the mold of something new
Like the byproduct of ancient resolve
Where the story replays in the pew;
What it could take?
I do not know
What’s at stake?
How much I can show.
Published by Bryn Montgomery