A wraith, dressed as a prince
Dark ichor, passed as bright wine
Terror, masked in calm
Wounds held together with sardonic smiles
Alas, and herald the dawn
Who can say what this morn brings
Steadfast and true
The pillars that surround
Alas, and herald the night
Gloam takes the light
Then dies in the darkness
Fear not for the pillars are light
“Alas!” cries evil, “I cannot stand!”
Armed are the pillars, skillful and sure
Love and life are in their arms
While enemy death drips from their swords
Hopeful yearning
Broken, still reaching
Seeing unceasing
Empty drooling thoughts
Pushed and prompted
Doubt flaking
Desire gasping
Tight aching breath
Grow inside
Come back to me
Find the guarded path
Weeping wanting expression
Painted faces
Hidden aces
Token braces
Broken traces
Open thoughts
Spoken blots
Craven pots
Over trots
Once upon a time
There were trees of lime
Carving seeds of tart
Along a path apart
Start the faltering,
wailing, whittle
Start the floundering
baleful beacon
Struggle through
the smokey gaze
Smuggle through
the slowing haze
Alerted,
fostering boon
Alarmed,
festering zoom
Towering tremors touch titillate to torrid tips till terminus.
Fires burn in your violent eyes
Throw you down
And against the wall
Let go the brands and embers
Seek sanctuary
And recover
Sunlight warms, balanced breeze
Allow the tree’s embrace
The water’s song
Black of night
Turned to see
Day of spades
Imbibed
Muggy gloam
Turned to breathe
Dawn of wink
Crisped
Feelings odd
Tilted and twirling
Solace sanctuary
Reaching openly
On the grinding road
Before the frowning goads
Show me another path
To fabled destination
Chiming, knocking, tolling
Faces coming and going
Masks presenting and changing
The painting can bleed and kill
This tunnel tubing
Is long and brooding
Distant light fading
Every heartbeat hating