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
This poem is about:
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: