A Poem from 1972 Foretold The Present

Posted on May 4, 2020 by cdsmiller17

White and Red Wine in Stemless Glasses with Slate Background

Monastic Meter

 

Time

Passes

So Slowly

That souls

Become holy

By dipping their fingers in wine.

.

But

Somehow

The

Silence

Sets up

A defiance

So that my own thoughts are not mine.

.

And

Then the

Controls

Go

When singing

The soul’s woe

For all of the feelings aren’t fine.

.

But

What does

It

Matter

If former’s

Not latter

As long as we’re able to dine?

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About cdsmiller17

I am an Astrologer who also writes about world events. My first eBook "At This Point in Time" is available through most on-line book stores. I have now serialized my second book "The Star of Bethlehem" here.
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1 Response to A Poem from 1972 Foretold The Present

  1. cdsmiller17's avatar cdsmiller17 says:
    August 5, 2022 at 1:27 pm

    I hadn’t realized that “Monastic Meter” is similar to the opening song in the opera “Faust”.

    “Red or white liquor,
    Coarse or fine!
    What can it matter,
    So we have wine?”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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