The graves we pass are nameless
Weather worn and old
The mausoleums slumber
Dreamlessly to hold
The bones of those before us
Whomever they may be
Beneath the wonderous moon
And weeping willow tree

The wastes are my home
Beneath a dying star
My family lies safe below
Of them I am no longer

In this way must it be
For hope to live
Beyond the coming night

The flame will be rekindled
Lit but two blinks ago
By the one who watched the deep
When the seas were yet unruly
Indeed it must be so
Before war might come
An inverse of the heaven's
Seen by no human eye

Alabaster dyed
A trembling voice sighed
Sheets of amber gold
Someone close to hold

For when the world
Washes away

Cast your demons to me
That I may dispell them
Wisps of smoke
Fading into the night
Confide in me
That you may know
I will not abandon
The promise I made to you

The river flows out to the sea

Carrying lost memories

Memories I used to be

And I’m better off without them



My darling says she misses me

Beneath the sun and date palm trees

I am inclined and wish to be

Right there along beside her

I've found
That art is not subjective
We are subjective
Trying desperately to feel
To grasp at the intimation
That being is not wholly physical
And that there is a higher form
Just beyond our reach
A form our souls may sense
Vague though the sense may be
Art is the pursuit of such a form
Any art that does not adhere to that form
Is vanity of the highest order