That daystar etches skin
tattoos black ink,
her lovers name.

attention span of a dreamer
easily given over to wonder

and in one moment war was declared
then everything changed

'wearing the latest disguise in the face of gradual decay'

a penny worth of words
the hop of a frog

interpretation, mixed emotion
wrong end of the stick,
group flagellation

.
Go forth…
          Into the deep sleep.

Swaddled in the shroud
marked with the words
you’d let fall,
not from loose lips
but the determined grip
of calloused fingers -
that had danced (with purpose)
on parchment,
to the unsung verses
set to inspire minds
and tempt stagnant tongues.

Go now…
          Before the rest of us.

And as we raise our hands
in gestured farewell,
our eyes would tear,
and our hearts would bleed
into the wake of your sojourn.

.