And all that we are,
all that we are
is a silhouette
in silent
rain
And all that we are,
all that we are,
is a blackbird
with wings
aflame
Within the spectral valley, ‘you and I’ shall ever lay,
where our fleeting fire perished in the rushing stream
Two hollow trees entwine
One’s languid roots then decay
I consume the nightshade draught
where the sunlight does forsake
Dark berries – did the shade impa**ion?
Are ghastly flames no longer tended?
Pierced, melted, wilted, smoldering heart
of storms. the funeral pyre – your art
You are the withering of the leaves
Poison the forest and blacken the stream
The deafening roar of the falls
emanates from your frigid mouth
Your spectral valley haunts me. I choke upon the ash,
and drown in falls of Zoar, for I am cursed by summer past
Red-winged blackbird, your wings aflame
Autumn nightshade-secreting lips
You are the withering of the leaves
Poison the forest and blacken the stream
You are the burning hoarfrost cold
to blanket the berries – your shade I behold