Untitled #20

look past for some truth to see
seek and ye shall find of thee
whispered the moon unto the muse
and birthed on the sullen times
flown with wings and held in mind
o'er sands through slipped hands
let to drop into yesterday
and so on and so on

it flows like dirty water
from the vessel of some dark mind
wit and bleeding eyes look past
to days in days of fine lines
crossed through with kissed tears
and endless promises
to keep sacred pure the last drops
of ancient rock held tight and fast
least they wash away
as the moon slides a new hue
of colors like rainbows from crows wings
and long forgotten things

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