Red
Blood
Lay cold
Black open void
Entering into the Promised Land
Your crimson stripes woven into a golden strand
Flesh and stone creep closer in the intimate dance of the predestined hour
Lost in an infinite act within times whisper
Drops for us to ponder
Silent flowing river
You appear
Honour
Scar
————–
This is a re-write of yesterday’s poem Crimson Stripes. I visited it yesterday and had an image of a mirror reflecting back a different image. It contains exactly the same words and lines but starts at the end and finishes at the beginning and gives a different feel to the poem. I think it works just as well.
Life From A Park Bench 
“the intimate dance of the predestined hour”
That’s gorgeous!
Thank you