POEM (047) Uncertain Hell

Uncertain Hell

It hurts to feel the silent night,
to hope her guardian is burning bright,
to sense the fear, and unearthed tear,
to claim and hope a verdict certain clear.

I hope in the mind to cling to the hope
of the setting and circumstance holds the rope,
as night sets the pace in this midsummer’s race,
closed unopened in hell’s face.

Unknown fight of what could be the worst,
as the torture reigns and the reeling bursts,
spinning the ovarian doom
pushing the darkened clouds which loom.