Umbral Ascension
Upon the moonlit morrow,
gasps a breath,
faintly growing weaker.
§
If only tomorrow,
could pause in rue,
of Death's endless eager.
§
Fallen at last,
the soulless spirit
guided by the One.
§
Drifting to,
the holy darkness,
of Heaven's gates begun.
-Seth
👁 4💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.