Thursday, April 4, 2013

A Poem by Nathan J.D.L. Rowark

Humanity, our nobility
Privileged we sit beneath out trees of florid green;
hands outstretched through blades of grass, as ants construct unseen;
networked tunnels underground for an empire to connect;
just like the spires and dome's above that  house our involved spec.
Holding seat, top of chain to shudder at the wonder;
to give and take the beauty held from Heaven and asunder.
Blessed are the ones that smell the dew drops in the morn;
for how could anything compare to such garden we are born?
Let the future words escape and give impatience now;
the magick of things yet to come, to your majesty we bow,
and even as we hold the keys to scientific garble,
remind us to take care at times of this ancestral seated marvel.
Nathan J.D.L. Rowark is a horror writer, and editor of Horrified Press.
Nathan first started writing poems and stories when he was six years old, and has always been a huge fan of  the fictionally macabre.

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