Wayward Hymn

Incarnate is the lovely redolence of venerable earth..

Blessed be the tepid moss between our toes

Sing like the sapling reaching from the dirt,

Whom is doomed to pose upon this senescent throne.

Blessed be the unknown and it’s woe in our hearts…

Lest we’re left destitute in the duplicitous dark.

Let us bathe in the resplendent horizon’s yoke,

A swirling umbrage of sorbet, grandiose and baroque.

This is an ode to the sound of our lovely wings.

Unsteady,

yet determined to kiss the empyrean dawn.

–Alex Grutza

Alex is a 22 year old student and native New Yorker. In his free time he’s a budding audio engineer and freelance poet who has yet to be published. He loves writing about nature and our place in the universe.

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