Need is a sturdy tabernacle
The pockmarked yellow moon
falls through the evergreens
through slender arms
along the still boulevard
driving in a trance
the fragments of music
burst in and out of conciousness
I wonder as the world awakens
in a rising storm of purpose
how many of us are at
the breaking point
how many of us have only begun
the fight of their lives?
poem by George Murdock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
