At the break of Noon

Formless and empty, hovering still water
Shadows of death scarred ever gently,
Plauging first born fruits, oh precious daughter
Birds of prey left scrambling for cages,
Night robes washed of indifference
Cast off, thread bare
Black sheep scoffed as wages sufficient
Smiles in the face of jealousy and fear
Agony in, angels gnawing at tongues
My my, many coloured eyes
Closed firmly, it’s you I finally see…

At the break of Noon

Lore and Oida (The Plume)

Kingston Heights, New Zealand

Artist's Description

blackness is a virtue

Artwork Comments

  • IzzyGumbo
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