The afterglow is pleasant, but the night
that follows buries me with guilty stress.
A spirit rock lacks any means to bless.
It offers stuff a ghost might hint brings light.
I want what’s moral, truly moral, right.
No grizzly olive branch can clean this mess.
It’s dark. I’ve lost my way so I confess,
again, and may this time my way stay bright.
Eugenia offers “afterglow” for this week’s prompt. Linda Kruschke offers new paint chip words for a continuation of a poem of octaves. I used “spirit rock”, “ghost”, “grizzly” and “olive branch” which continues Unknown Sin.
Poet's Corner 