The Village that Raised the Child *trigger - lots of them*

We are the ribbon of road
that urges us on,
and we are the singing mystic
dancing 'neath pale moonlight.
We are our fill and murder of
young fools and crows.
We are the prince on white horse
and the bite of his sword.
We are the full moon, and
the dark, knotted clouds.
We are the forest and
its lifeless bodies covered in shrouds.
We are the claws. We are the teeth.
We are the predator hungry
for fresh blood.
And, we are the angels
who hold back the demons.
We are the parents watching
us in calm, quiet sleep.
We are the hut, the sheep and
protective guard dog.
We are the village, and
we are the child who the village raised.

Sometimes pain is the reason for which we are born, so it becomes our own and we rejoice in its embrace.

I really like it's cool

Thank you for sharing, that is a very beautiful poem

That is a great poem. I like it a lot.

May