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Let this pilgrim's sin, inaugurate

Unnerve! Mine-eye
That I might, see!
That hand that stirs...
Upon an unequivocal sky and sea;
Lead me through that lowly pastoral gate.
Let this nomad's world abate.
His pagan heart that still incurs
A nonetheless same fate;
He who's nightfall is far from dark
He that a brims the stars black golden art
In his ordnance of grace
Show thy non illusory, immaculate,
Stonemasonairy, despotic, face!
Unleash thy duel forked lightning.
Scythe mine nomads world, abate:
Let this pilgrim's sin, inaugurate.

poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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