When your shrine of Death kisses and weeps, It bows that death of stream with washes of rapt echoes, When exclaimed, the vaults of sorrow through valleys ago, I should again be silenced by eidolons where no dream reaps, Where no dream wallows in the grown, endless shift that tailed Fires through some old stone, … Continue reading Of Death.
When the hand lays on sights, dead, That collapsed dust from earlier time, That acceded some time beyond the winds, lead With the lining, cried at first breath. Doth the rooms that kiss the gold of night As when the mutters of veiled chance Bested the light that silence commended, strife, As the rivers bound … Continue reading Unquiet Light.
With an alone eden from the moor beside The kisses of the shines of that muttering moon, And gently, proceeded by hysteria, was a moment To expire of ghostly dreams beyond the moans of tolling winds, And held to its breast was that trochee candle, That dimmed its fate to be. It is quite dead … Continue reading A Candle Lit.
As the world Casted the dark coves That shore wished upon… The entity of Death lives Upon this very shore, unborn. Warping rivers tarnished Us all, as we, solemn, nearing further, Are in the givens of cruel fate (oh, fate,) That from here—we possess The mercies of waters in the air, Voices shown away, withered … Continue reading The Last Quiet Cry.
I’ve laid before you, darkness all I’ve mapped, all alone, Those little taps, and the enlightenment of voice from birth Intrigue the remembrance of once I had, And all I held, and all I’ve left and sought, And loved, I’ve loved! The cruelty of son, Told that the son branched take on this, (And dun … Continue reading As I Lay Before You.