Supercession of the wordgod,
So to speak, is what we need love?
Likely repetition cold sod,
Sky the only scene above.
Could I or you believe this world,
Accented back and forth in time,
Serpent orange and green uncurled--
My garden tree a simple lime.
The sun it moves my shadowed hand,
Draws circles, hearts, cascading leaves,
Cool water inbetween the sand,
As overwhelming lust conceives.
Released from sin, this river flows,
Comes rising as the evening glows.