Laudamus Te!
I woke with words
Nailed to a cross
Not of my making...
Pitiful loss,
For, someone else
Built that symbol...
Tore words from
My universe,
So carefully built...
Then let blood
Flow over them
From a stranger.
Adoramus Te!
Glorificamus Te!
Having spoken,
Will you lean
On these words,
Not their meaning?
Or, meaning misread,
Will you feel
It's knife?
Laudamus Te.
The Dragon wakes
From dormancy,
With scales to
Deflect points.
What of the scorpion
Beneath?
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/origin-of-the-flame-4/
