Upon the satin clouds
Rivers of black parch the night.
Rainbows fade into shadows
And the moon becomes caustic

Thirteen moons break the back
As the ground wonders about.
Tiny lakes tell a tale
And the ears hear not

What shall the owl cry?
As the crevices fill with salt
What shall the ravens devour?
As the grass grows green

How shall the pages be turned?
No story for the words to tell.
Will the tree remember the broken branch?
As the leaves fail to grow.

Will the dirt whisper to the stones?
Or shall they scream at the worms?
What shall my name become?
As tomorrow curses today