Set course upon a ship of friends; for wailing chatter the target trends. Forsaking all and morning glory, we’re fellow travelers in a troubled story.
The twilight days pass knowingly now as numbered letters fade aloud. In memories born they shrivel and cease, they fall like leaves beneath a Hierophant’s crease.
A naked remark in a dream once renounced, a frozen forever to soon he announced. Drained of love and torn apart they whither to replenish our sacred art.
Corrupted by blindness and glory of self, three elephants sat nodding on the welcoming shelf. All threads who lie fallow their message misspent and strange ironies grow wings, some never relent.
Cry thunder, cry lightning, the sky opened above; cats and propaganda like a deluge of love. The awe, the fear, the truculent marked, to cash a free meal no trial can be traced.
The sun was there sitting that never was seen, as a crooked maid watched the measured man’s mean. The gathering found truth; sometimes hard to wear, then swore an old oath that no threat they would bare.
Connect three smiles become academic frowns; where apples and kingly pawns with beauty once sat down.
Copyright (c) Martin Hanley 5/10/2014