Saturday, 12 August 2017

So, dear Mary

So, dear Mary,
What shall we make of this?
Old as time you stand
In a cool, green, silent, place.
Suffering though time,
You're bearing the forever wound.
A womb torn for the world by
Something of fate and history.
So many stories around you,
Like little children
Tugging at your skirts.
Tales of myth and magic;
All tinged with rosy mystery.
And still,
Regardless of divinity,
Your pain goes through the years.
Bringing us, perhaps,
As close to infinity
As we shall dare to contemplate.
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