And the beasts, cast down from levels of heaven, <br /> held conclave in stitched fog, <br /> sewn by careless witches <br /> dealing in yarn, with no regard for pattern <br /> nor placement. <br /> Needles sharp, fingers bled rose petals <br /> into beasts' paws, <br /> and God saw 'beginning' in this. <br /> Where had such beauty gone amiss, when? <br /> Surely not His Garden, <br /> where snakes never ventured flowers, <br /> Eve bearing the brunt for mankind, <br /> before birthed. <br /> Witches cackled, knowing their mistakes timely, <br /> misdeeds approved, <br /> gore, the forerunner of cycles. <br /> As ever. <br /> Blooded beginnings. <br /> Rosed dawns.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/creations-are-unknown/
