Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

I gaze across, how many?
Billions of shells touched by Midas.
To give me this Carpet of gold.
In A single breath of wind, it becomes new.

The black gullís harsh cry signals my intrusion
Yet white horses rush to greet me
Then fade at the last hurdle
To lap at my feet

Ozone snapped with saline
Lifts my senses
Driftwood sculptures turned on a watery lathe
Demand my attention

Basalt, granite polished by endless devotion
Caressed in erosion.
In there pools orphaned creatures stare back at me.
Waiting for the mother to return, as she will.

Clouds come to meet their maker
As sunlight filters through
In this most ancient cathedral
I stand on the edge of creation.

Related Items


The following comments are for "On the edge of creation"
by Gordon

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.