and they walked on like clouds float on
the blood red sun on rivers run
waterfalls you see flow one way
and molds don't notice what they decay

a quiet drum to quell those flashes
canvas white for bold stroked splashes
pointedly naming because of growth grown
awake again because of what my mind knows

bearing what brunt? this is the purpose
in the thicket noises form onslaughts
planting bones to grow dreams lost
and these eyes are sharper now
cutting through balloons in air

I want to hope for old eyes, as if growth was easy