It will be on that golden day,
with your still flesh milky, marble, majesty, white
skin streaked , saturated, almost blue with lines and pathways
like the picture perfect chizzlings
of mineral vein riddled
gratuitous Greek gods.
It will be on that golden day,
that i kiss the solemn serenade of your soul goodbye
and shuffling sickly, sadly, sorrowfully away from your festive wake ill finally be ready to make
the meat of my downtrodden face shine full
free from that sickening limitless lull
that finally ends
on that golden day. It will be,
truth, light, love, life, celebration bursting free
from the cold darkened shell it inhabited so many years
like a plant sprouting from the sad seed it called home.
These dreams,
this vision,
i have found my purpose.
Like words slipping wild and violent from pursed lips,
there sounds the only truth.
I wish to see,

That golden day.