Newspaper article Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)

[c]POEM OF THE DAY

Newspaper article Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)

[c]POEM OF THE DAY

Article excerpt

'Painted by rain'' I reach out my hand and the blood of my enemies stain my veins, As thought, memory, and rage seep from me, depleted. For I come from the mists and rain of dreams beyond midnight.

Flocks of ravens fly by, waiting in the darkened sky, for my chosen dawn.

Am I protected from that which is in my soul? Rain opens a door for me to enter. For I am called! A throne stands waiting in this silent kingdom, is it for me? Is it of love and caring, are they my slaves? Am I fit to sit upon it.

Or am I to remain a King, in thorns, in a strange land? Futile weapons raised against me are the relics of hell, For they are ancient, and unholy, staining the earth with blood, Battlefields of the dead and dying.

My name is upon the sky, painted by rain.

Only I can inherit. For I am the message and the word, With your conscience written boldly on the oceans surface. This land is barren, trees blackened and broken. Have not those before me governed by death and destruction? …

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