Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Of chance and Breath

When from the wilds come
woken by the shivering still
leaning to tip and expectant to fall
a moment fair for being at all

Dread the dizzy and impartiality
the silent reckoning gifted by the malign and embittered
Dearest These woods constrict to make of you a morsel
This ground to cold to seek subject or rest

The bones of the world reject you from and repulse
We can see our most esteemed wither in a most supernatural grace
this our convergence our shared divinity
devoid of age or wisdom

Oh dear heart won, What persists is corrupted
stated clearly from a throne of intent
What dies remains purest still
Our schemes comes to rest on a blotter of fallibility

The Privilege of knowing what should have been
a potion so dearly vanquished
a dread taken solely truly hearts blood
Not to perish in drip but rather bucket full

We will blacken the whitest lie a frozen pardon
To stutter and demolish all post tense
To clean what covers does not determine it whole or morale
It mounts it and the result is sterile and foreign

It is a Wicked branch snapped clean from a monstrous thing
misshapen offspring so knotted and unkind
without host or family begotten into unfamiliarity
An encounter resounding in the unnatural sciences

Orphan pray outcast
A sacrifice of massacres and atonement
We tread deepest in that which does not ground us
Fairest of all, you must not weep for devils, when Angels are needed most

As no one prays for oneself all self is not needed
We find not the desperate but the lesser of beasts
A dream or a break in thought we can stare off and be of nothing
Or we can

It is to ourselves we find
It is not in the wilds or the thick of the desperate and the idle
heart won and carefree in bondage and freedom never equal in service
A lastly time and a battle enjoined egress