Ministry of Water

Black lamb, in the foggy field.

Night’s rain still in your wool.

Cold eyes make me now yield.

Winter makes a summery fool.

 

What is the dream you have here?

Hunger, the demon. Comfort, the sin.

The sun will swallow us soon, I fear.

Life feeds on death; innocence can’t win.

 

Black lamb, you look on me, full of hate.

Knife in my hand, in hunger I slaughter.

Hunger, comfort, the inevitable weight.

Knife in my hand, the ministry of water.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s