Warmth yet wizened of this kingdom's face...

Of each falling morning
Egis of night
Impedes the alight.
My frights
Lop within pocket,
As the each eye falls,
Hung of only lightlessness.

This desire at dawn
Of helical heights,
My senses assemble and
Converge to climb.

Parade of apophenic eyne and ear
I forsake
To tend to wraiths
Of my own weave and making
Awaiting hours that thicken the waking.

Beseeching of beauty,
Wherever it sings,
Wherever it lay...

As day
Atones of the dusk,

Hush the had...
Hold my hand.

 
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