She sang her scars to slumber o’ so sweet. The conjuror of vast
consciousness collapse. Earthly fodder of this a last descent
by crooked hands. Winds have stained black the flesh. A
crown of clouds. The sky knelt before soul. Now is the time
to ask day if it dreams of night. Not such lore bittersweet.
As woman with her wings. The ghost that pulled the
moon from its shackled stare. Quiver, lest your courage
ascend once more to the seas. Eyes silent to the swell
and the sweet waters kiss. The empty pa**ing night
that wades through the sanguine sands, cast to woe
in its weeping mortality. Visceral seas. Extinct by our
decrees. Lost within the trees. Scent of life fades
from the breeze.