Solar Storm

On a pillar of clouds, supporting my weight
I stand and I stare at the nacreous gates
With reverent patience, I wait to partake
In an aeolian state of the wind and its wake

As the crier of time, oh the visions I've seen
Half asleep, in my dreams, ataraxia seems
Seems to be, dreamed by me, scenes of starlings
Queens and kings crumble. psithurism cleans

A solar storm of misery in a cosmogyral place
A space reminiscence of your beautiful face
Your strands do command a fine gossamer foundation
It is within your piercing stare that I have found my destination

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