Ships coming down
Straits of bone
To the bottom hole
Last to see
First to go
Hallowed fields of gold
Brushing gently
Upon little toes
Running to hearth and home
Earth grown
Empty sounds
Go unnoticed
In this field of brown
Ghosts roam around
Knowing not life
Like a winged fowl
Piercing gaze
And hunter's scowl
The reaper comes down
To mazed fields
Graced by dark and light
The fields change
While shadows roam by
Seeking peace in dualities
Opposite extremes
Scythe in hand, harvest is swift
The shadows gaze with uncertainty
Of the unseen
And all within intuition's grasp
Of the threshing fields
Shadows move in sun and moon
Seeking
Fields of gold,
An end to rough terrain,
Answers to the pain
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 9:39 PM UTC
Ships coming down
Straits of bone
To the bottom hole
Last to see
First to go
Hallowed fields of gold
Brushing gently
Upon little toes
Running to hearth and home
Earth grown
Empty sounds
Go unnoticed
In this field of brown
Ghosts roam around
Knowing not life
Like a winged fowl
Piercing gaze
And hunter's scowl
The reaper comes down
To mazed fields
Graced by dark and light
The fields change
While shadows roam by
Seeking peace in dualities
Opposite extremes
Scythe in hand, harvest is swift
The shadows gaze with uncertainty
Of the unseen
And all within intuition's grasp
Of the threshing fields
Shadows move in sun and moon
Seeking
Fields of gold,
An end to rough terrain,
Answers to the pain