Christened


Blind but not the eye
Shall no mouth speak
Or breathe of the lilacs airs
But suffer for the near truth
That is cast unto stones
there be no memories
just shards of endless endeavors
and a fair lass with bonny looks of golden stares.
crumble but do not scatter into the abyss
but bless the seed that grows from the lies and truths
kiss the pedals and take in either poison or antidote
bleed for the lasting but pray for the harvest
live when it need be and die when done
be vain and bold ride the tumbles but do not halt
peek into the soul
that is both sheer as a poltergeist
and stained with conflict
taste the comfort in disaster
and drink from the well of chaos
dashed with a hint of a familiar named love.
Now all that remains is to wonder but none are lost.

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