Shadower of the valley, dying of wisdom--
strung along since seven holes played
the Charmer's flute.
The licentiousness of your poetry, makes
days of worship drag along, inspiring
idleness in all its wickedness.
Leveler of leagues, unlikely elbows falling
together in deeds.
You freeze a whorled dance in the hollowed
trunk of a tree, to wait out the world you
impel.
Forever retiring to the terrible weight of its
foundation, having had the gall to drink its
basest, bitterest secretion.
Poison by any, and no other name...quenchless
blows by the scepter of you in deserted time.
As the truth be hidden in plain sight, so they
to you for salvation.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Shadower of the valley, dying of wisdom--
strung along since seven holes played
the Charmer's flute.
The licentiousness of your poetry, makes
days of worship drag along, inspiring
idleness in all its wickedness.
Leveler of leagues, unlikely elbows falling
together in deeds.
You freeze a whorled dance in the hollowed
trunk of a tree, to wait out the world you
impel.
Forever retiring to the terrible weight of its
foundation, having had the gall to drink its
basest, bitterest secretion.
Poison by any, and no other name...quenchless
blows by the scepter of you in deserted time.
As the truth be hidden in plain sight, so they
to you for salvation.
