Away from the world by Terry Cummings


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It is our will
Bent in hunger
In whisper
Burdened and keen
In confession

Music sacks
Alone we hear
Framed in portrait
Our abstract image
In wet strokes
Hidden

Flowered
We are grown
As pearls
In softness

Shapeless night rustles
In deluge
Darkness spoken
Across our form

Falters all in rift and ruin
Away from us
Caressed are we
In sorrow

Starved
Consumed
We soar organic
In our hunger

Away from the world

We shimmer and gleam

In darkness