Night comes to rest upon a bed of gossamer dream
As the old mists of the mind rise in rivulets
The shadows of thought flit through a jeweled forest
The moon, gleaming by an ancient magick
The well-worn mask of time slips gracefully away
As the stars pierce the veil, grateful of the reprieve
The fire-dancers, in their maelstroms, bound and leap
Through the fantasy that sweeps across the earth
The limits of sight and sound are ever more bent
Bent, and stretched, as the Darkness comes thundering
As the Darkness comes, fierce as the chaos of dawn
M.M.
No comments:
Post a Comment