It Stands Upon The Decaying


Yet still it casts shadows
Hands of ever reaching,
Feet, of ever breaching
Though turmoiled winds howl,
Critters of desolation be chipping,
Grinding at its body,
Yet it bares no signs of fussing,
Nor brooding, though alone.
Though it rests
Upon soils of dwindling,
It gives not to surrendering,
Its presence is of crowning,
Showing strength
Though be much darkening,
Strange things about the night,
Much about its surroundings.
Be ebbing,
Fueling for its fall,
Its toppling of beauty,
But firm it holds, clashing,
To remain existing,
Like flower to split the rigid,
Bold, it be devoted to entrenching,
For be it alone,
It is of the complexed,
A persisting faith
A design of everblooming,
Though alone.
It finds reason, for prevailing.



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Micah Biffle

Micah Biffle

Just a man beneath the thumbprint of God. A man wandering like any other, wondering what will come of him.(Instagram @poemjunkybiffle)