|
mirror reflects pools of water |
|
dripping timelessly from |
|
scars of a mortal coil |
|
the majestic garden wounded. |
|
shares her wisdom no longer |
|
and with this... I remember... |
|
birds of song |
|
now but ash and ember |
|
they lie silnet |
|
amidst the vision |
|
of burning trees |
|
her eyes swollen |
|
spilling raindrops of blood |
|
treasures of life |
|
scorched and ravaged |
|
earthly seasons burned away |
|
a memory etched |
|
like a blackened scar on a shell |
|
of what once was beauty |
|
weak and fragile teardrops fill |
|
the pools of ice |
|
the taste of the poison filters |
|
through every ebony sunrise |
|
no light shines upon |
|
the ruins of what once was |
|
a wasteland some call home |
|
the naked season we call... |
