You are alone…
As Jim lie there, stage cold, lights
Turned ON. But not him. Sweat.
Leather. Dying breath. He felt the wine, dying on the vine… recognized the Indians, and the smell of antifreeze. With the breath of an angel, he heard the voice, There Are No Partners, Friends, or bruthas….
In this world, like all worlds
You are alone…
Atone for that
Pay for your belief in kindness
He lie, without a voice, as do I
Silent evermore… ✍
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 