Is just a your pain sprinkled across the face of the earth <br />Final testimonies of Hypostases that no gnostic reading could capture <br />Before drowning under an avalanche of self made face concepts <br />And this urge to create in an image born in you and self moved <br />Through the winds and hues in all perceived cold and warm colours <br />Opened for everything that comes on a bait of St. Bartholomeus’s skin <br />Or a seam of St. Elijah’s red gown when he dropped it to his successor <br />As he was soaring up to the sky <br /> <br />We too human are far from being saints <br />But I can feel I create am created in your image <br />The body of words I gladly cast to whoever is willing to eat <br />As the body no longer belongs to me<br /><br />Miroslava Odalovic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-by-many-be-read-in-shades-of-darkness/
