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