Springing from
mighty earth
I bloom open

in screaming
colors of
every desire.

Morning dew
paints me ripe
with clarity—

I know I'm
grounded to
worm-riddled soil

without sense;
my venture
is compounded.

The lore of
flowers is
misconstrued,

so I grow
in sunlight
amicably.

Grass grows greener
Air smells cleaner
          After the rain sanitizes the earth;

Heart beats higher
Smile grows wider
          After the tears sanitize the soul.

Deep within her woeful eyes,
  A calmness remains.
The absolute soothsayer of lies
Where a cryptic phantasm resides—
  All imprinted upon these cold chains.

Her circadian rhythm sings of resonance—
  Decay drowning every mile.
Time is an immeasurable distance,
Void of every cosmic existence.
  Yet, still there lives an ill-imposed smile.

Doom weds Immaculation
  On the blackest shank of evening.
Sweet memories collapse with imagination—
Seen as over indulgent frustration.
  And all that seems is unseeming.

Shadows of infinite guilt
  Plague the weary quintessence.
Doubt whispers of pains rebuilt
When tepid blood was spilt
  Upon the very death of acquiescence.

Thus she speaks of mourning mists,
  And redemption exhales one final breath.
Turning away from all that exists,
Knowing that silence persists
  That life is life; death is death.

Dissected a rainbow,
  but found no riddle between.

Three lights shining;
  green, red, and blue.
Tranquil white endured.

Acrylic paints running;
  green, red, and blue.
Calm black endured.

Realization occurred;
  Colors united gives
  colors divided.
Why has this incurred?

The sun would shine night and day,
   less the moon wandered out to play.
Snow would fall in summertime
   to justify the cold of winter's long rime.

The ocean and wind would adore
   that from their love we'd sail ashore.
Gold would simmer in a ***
   to be poured upon the poorest lot.

The clouds would be our softest thrones,
   and ev'rything beyond the blue we'd own.
Seasons would change if we wished them to
   because sometimes feelings grow anew.

The ships would anchor at the gate,
   and not one soul would ever be late.
Sparrows would sing of only happiness,
   and not one heart would know any less.

The cosmos would be in your hand;
   together, you and I, would always stand.
If we were gods and commanded this,
   you and I would be creators of ultimate bliss.

Up above—there—that deepest, darkest sea,
those candles carry our history;
Like paper lanterns released to sea
To guide wayward souls on their journey.

The world has an end, of this I am sure;
Thus we seek to stretch ourselves to that shore;
Clouds and trees, all sparkling things are pure,
and there rests Heaven's enchanting allure.

Them stars winking and glitt'ring about,
they know not of this mortal's doubt.
But should they never do so without,
I'll never know myself inside out.

Beneath expansive, ingrained philosophies
the ignorant are stranded out at sea.
Left to believe in broken philosophies
while floating amid inorganic debris.

Pretty face against the snow;
Innocence in morning dew;
Sunlight in warm, gold eyes;
I know that sweet death was you.

Coffin among pine roots,
Gilded of oak wisdom;
A white rose beside a grave,
Throne for your soul's kingdom.

Cheeks are glass cherries;
Lips of Aurora's light.
Time is timeless to frosted beauty
As you sleep away eternal night.

Beneath those slumbering lids
Jewels are satin ire,
The sharpest, natural emerald;
But you cannot hear the lyre.

He sings your poison lament
In night and waning day;
Such beauty never buried,
As was the Seven's way.