Poétique

Robes flowing on the ground
Sprigs of pine caught up in threads
As we’re dragging them around
And your crown is full of light
As is the blood red love
That beats in rhythms
Round from hand to hand
Back and forth
From sleeve to sleeve

Were it not the stones
That built our castle
Thorns from the roses
Swords and canes in alabaster
Our tongues would not be tied
Behind the curtains that
Reside around our bed

Off with their head is not
The company we keep
A passionate land ruled by
Bees and flowers sweet
Beneath our feet bare often too
Though in our chambers
There are shoes we choose
To walk about said lands
Where dirt and ocean create sands
For us to honor it in bare
What dark and light
Make fire and water a trinity
In the jewel of a heartfelt
Tapestry of which we wear

Does the tempest mend the fold
Do the fields make young of old
Our memories returned in lives of past
Lived as one though moonlit streams
Unite at harvest so does our sun

As the ebb and flow will crash
Against the edges of our wrath
Made up of dreams that find
The surface to an out of body sling
That swings us up by ribbons late
In the early days of May
While poles of promise dress
Our bodies suspended cast in light
On one side crystal clear
The other black as night

Call out the birds by wing and beak
The talons of our feathered fleet
Our spirits free from carrion
In wounded ways
Our robes display the casual
Twilight that our stars have
Ne’er displayed in such a way
Astronomers have captured to portray

Then and there the Emperor
Takes the blood red heart and hand
Of Empress standing at the edge
Of cavalier concerns upon the ledge
Where honeypots are kept at bay
Like memories of alchemy
We are the archetype
Beyond the tailors seam

© GÄ