We now could face our seedling,
|
and to accept the disliked figure it bears
|
Watch while it stings my growing
|
as this old friend lasted for years
|
|
That grey and simple passage hidden within
|
My beloved nectar, it is what he needs
|
held inside ethereal glass of red potion
|
I do now lie cold in grass and plead
|
|
Begging this familiar face to give oceans
|
but he just hands me the weeds
|
as morningrise never reached my chambers
|
I stare that pale knife with greed
|
|
It flashes the only colour to my portrait
|
in this moment's ashes; it is a dream
|
No tears to give for this long trail
|
this elixir; my blood is what I bleed
|
|
In a word of simplicity and hasted strength
|
I never saw that blinking again...
|
|
-----------------
|
Calm Blinking
|
| Thy Serpent |
