Tuesday, September 18, 2018

WITHERED FLOWER.


Withered Flower

The light is gone like a withered flower.
Shadows fade and bend like lions.
I am a withered rose on the back of prose,
that does not mourn the darkness.
Take me, and take my baby,
and the light throws me outside of myself,
shadows whisper on the end of all things,
and night is calm again.

The baby cries, and wails, and the wind sings;
the storm is coming, a tornado is coming,
a wail wakes us up in the night.
We are ancient, we are kind, the monsters cannot
sustain us.

Destiny bends. Nothing is forsaken as the lost lamb;
shadows fade and control the light.
All is lost in the world, the rain will fall,
and the beauty dips and swells.

Burdened by proof, I don't know anything;
light will bend and all is lost.
The night withers and I go home.

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