Echnaton And The Miracle Poem by Leslie Philibert
Echnaton And The Miracle
Lost in Times Square he notes
That the heavens are looking down
His eyes too dry to be wide
His mouth open with sand
His face made of stone.
Look, What do you see?
Aton`s chair, the holy place
The highest in the sky.
He answers;
I thought there was only one.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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4/24/2024 12:41:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
