Etherial calm was sown by naiades
Dead wood's paleness, bygone...
O weightless thought
Particles of a cruel hour-glass
That's filled with empty seed.
Raining down a poet's grave
Earily thy sad wind roars
Blows and weaves on torrid shores
Careworn mermaids flicker grey
Elderly thy morn-boughs sway
When the oddest foe entwines me and ballads die away
When the witty moons pass by like habits
I'll starve in bleak dismay
"Joy is numb...a fatal chalice...no escape"
Thou hath waltzed o'er pastures of frailty
With cygnets wrapped in moss
Murky day-dreams plague thee. O nadir
Thy energy disdained by sourness
Make thy loom of wisdom
Into a sprouting remedy
Be aware that thou shall mind
Thy timid orphaned naiades
A swarm of white owlets
To clear my lovesick heart