Day follows day until it's questioned why; It enlaces with viscid, strangling wear This errant, curious mind Coloured were the wings of a dream That cleaved against the wind; On marble, through the flame, Their ash so grey
Treat the thoughts like they have been your own, Besotted with her whispered song; Riding a decuman wave Of destiny's storm-she breathes
Scope the links of knots in your web Sharp emerald eyes to face: Enchanting quiet of her intent glance to share Deft, thorough hands sort breathing spheres Of tiny snow-white flames In yearning to be found, Their lights are so frail
In maze of fate there are lots of turns to choose, But narrow is the funnel throat they all lead to