Forever Lost In The Mirrors Of Time

Forever lost in the mirrors of time,

I dance in frilly snow flakes which

Laugh at your darkness unfolding

Within the clouds.

I drink in acidity from my sandy

tears; gripping at my throat with

All their strength.

I ask the mighty hand of God

To lift me up from the peril

You have made me walk through.

Thunder and lightening remise

All fire; drift up to my window

And strike down those whom

Behave in such an appalling manner

Of scuffing along broken roads.

There is no more rain to quench

The thirst of the lion.

For when the hunter goes a calling

On the next seer to advance in the

Aisle of the storm; I lift my shield

To block out treading bullets flying

Past my heart, driving all crimson

Waters away from the subject of

The almighty fires burning in His

Façade.

How is the hour going to pass into

The night when all seeds bestowed

Upon my head holler in my ears

To let your flamboyance prelude

All desire to be entwined with

The eagle.

For there is no likeness to amber

Which precedes all fountains youthful

Voices lift their souls.

An eagle flies over the mountains;

Crying for diseased hearts to quicken

Their pace if all fires are to cease

In brigade hope rages for.

I’m offering up to you, my Lord,

All the gold pieces my heart can

Muster.

For the wise always speak through

Shivering souls of the dying night.

Candied mustard greens seethe in

Grace my tunes drizzle out from

My captivated spirit.

Wear you soul outside of your corpse;

For the longing commences, and dark

Clouds disappear into nothingness.

For the spirit in the wind blows away.

I’m not going to ask for reward to bleed

Out all reward to your cost; however,

I’m going to teethe you wounds when

Breaking lawful knots writhing in your

Head.

How can a dream be a dream when all

Lost souls seem so real?

I bleed out time to tie all seeds of peril

Into knotted beams of light which shall

Burn on high into the glory God has

Spoken of with his salient breaths.

How can the moon uplift winded children

When their grail has sunk into fleshy

Foundation?

For liquid gold has been sipped in its

True form.

Have the trailing tears drowned out the

Hunger burning inside your spirit?

Where shall the fox flea to when his rain

Crashes down upon him?

Perhaps all tears dry up once the wounded

Heart scabs over and dries up all acidity.

No more shall salty tears eat up the core

Which you have now become.

A promise is a promise when the craft

Of the moon walks out on the summer

Sky.

When every song turns sour, your

Note hangs onto to Lady Luck.

News.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016

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