Clouds of Unknowing

As we walk along this old and well worn road,
Skies full of thunder surround us with crashing sighs.
Seas transformed into spirits sent ’round by endless cries.
A chance to remain there as before, whenever the sun fled.
Yet only after the old moon was slashed & bled.

To an end with an ever moving presence.
To a beginning without even the slightest essence.
Crimson and dazed, my body likes beneath the crystal case.
Enclosed for all the realize the eminence of Deaths’ embrace.

The tune I carry was heard for years behind.
The instrument now seen has yet to be designed.
My skirts flow endlessly downward, as a stairway from below.
Dissension made easy for all who will be called to go.
Strains of ivory covered benches occupied by waiting prospects.
Forever, as always, we live in such a cloud of unknowing.

Transformation away from what the day will bring,
Into conforming religious withholdings.
Reconstitution of every center of being
That long since crumbled into the dust of the sea.

Clouds, clouds of unknowing, blazing skies pull and tear
with unyielding tortures.

Seas of unending spirits, scream for revenge,
Fleeting sun, bleeding moon
Forever as always,
Deaths’ embrace is life’s’ own face. . .

RLT. . .

Clouds of Unknowing

Rhonda Strickland

Sun City, United States

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Artist's Description

Thoughts put into feelings placed upon paper with the utmost of emotion. . .

Artwork Comments

  • David's Photoshop
  • Rhonda Strickland
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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