A Cranberries
evening
When singing
Comes down soft
As if holding me aloft...
me feels
Closer
Like Michael...
And
The head
Whipping backlash
Of wars...
Bloody real bath...
They go away
For a holy bath
Down that
River on flow
Upon Her
Where
Pinkish red orange grey
All get
A Sublimate...
And
One
Sees
Her...
Again
Sans pain
With Hope
Never ever to be drained...
One then
Reverberates...
Faith...
Charity...
as
purity...
Pristine...
Solemn...
By the river
Sitting
Becoming
Silence
On Flow...
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