Darkness, Darkness, Redux — for Jesse Collin Young

I see darkness coming, and the wolves of night lunging in their predator packs unleashed, again, across what once were enspirited, compassionate and innocent plains, majestic only by their truth that their feeling from grace were once, again, a godly moment, permitted  to attain; raise their embrace a short-lived moment for us, the innocent, where, for a moment of God’s time, a moon, full, cast sylvan beam in a sibilance of love, an enraptured silence of haunting love for all cast a moment enough on us so as not forgotten in the darkness coming, the darkness of wolves sweeping their darkness of ravaging lust on us their blood-wrenched jowls from us the feed of their lust and ferocious predator greed of their no other way upon us innocents and

our pain of nowhere, their darkness of ages our pain of emptiness and this darkness to come.

E-mail Paris, an associate professor, at paris@uiwtx.edu

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