Sweet on the wind flies song and whisper
rain-heavy skies this night
just like you promised
On well worn paths go the firstborn sinners
who want no absolution
only to breathe in the awakening world
streaming in with mist through an open window
the curtains unfurled like sails
the garden below in bloom
and the half-dreamer standing there
hands on the windowsill
leaning way out
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What do you believe, but have no evidence for?
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Photo by Janko Ferlic from Pexels
Mitchel David Ring 
5 responses to “Firstborn”
This evokes so much imagery in my mind; you’ve inspired me.
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I am really taken with this one!
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Thanks Susan (: glad you enjoyed it!
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[…] by a poem from Mitchel David Ring: https://thelightison.blog/2021/06/29/firstborn/. Thank you for the inspiration! ~ […]
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I believe in the human spirit, where it goes and what happens to it after death…. Only then will we find out.
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