We now could face our seedling,
and to accept the disliked figure it bears.
Watch while it stings my growing
as this old friend lasted for years.
That grey and simple passage hidden within
my beloved nectar, it is what he needs
held inside ethereal glass of red potion
I do now lie cold in grass and plead
Begging this familiar face to give oceans
but he just hands me the weeds
as morningrise never reached my chambers
I stare that pale knife with greed
It flashes the only colour to my portrait
in this moment's ashes; it is a dream
No tears to give for this long trail
this elixir; my blood, is what I bleed
In a word of simplicity and hasted strength
I never saw that blinking again... |
