#evergreenwords

The ever watchful I.

The watcher on the westward wall

The wretched on the sky.

Crested on the burning lips.

The Red Sea thrashes foam.

Its waves etched you in pages

In eternal, wretched tome.

Boiling in our waters we created to observe.

Cast in our productions we are sure that we deserve.

My darling can run. 

My darling shines brightly.

My darling’s the sun.

I know she is able.

I know she is true.

Her path has been built and her path the way through.

I hear her in slumber.

She’s the dream of my mind.

She helps me to fly, and I treat her in kind. 

My darling is able.

My darling’s the dream.

I am the heart between her and the scheme. 

The butcher is buried and too is the sow.

I mourn for them both as I enter the Tao.

All can breathe deeply and all can reside.

The place where I keep every truth and a lie.

The baker is singing.

The martyr redeemed.

It’s all that I’ve wanted.

It’s all that I’ve dreamed.

So may the hearts sing,

And may my souls fly.

I’ve buried this hatred.

This hatred can die.

So feast from their fruit trees they've grown just for you.

All our days have been numbered.

All our days will be new.

groaning grinding lost in time.

Betwixt, affixed upon performance.

The power exchanged far too enormous.

By default,

can’t pass through hands.

Far too yours to leave your lands.

A hunger yields just for a moment.

Will not stay a key component.

It will reset, be washed anew.

Primal carnage cast askew.

Hunger waiting, watching, pacing.

Here a feeling, mine for taking.

And so for moments cast in roles.

Jointly working towards a goal.

Fruition of carnal desire.

Do this right and shirk all ire.

Lose yourself in your gyration.

Peak performance at your station.

Thank god we place our outlets here.

A euphoric mind less apt to fear.

These the things we rarely mention.

Billowing mass of an aspen tree. Thrashing, thrashing you and me.

This simply a lovers quarrel.

The joining of that which we deem royal.

Nature will both give and take.

You needn’t remind me what’s at stake.

Believe me I know all too well.

Hoping, searching for a spell.

But maybe things not simply done.

These things take time, lest you take none.

I made a mess, perhaps I am.

Maybe monster, maybe damned.

But in all cases contradiction.

We are all but works of fiction.

Washing up on shores like these.

Port light, star light in disguise.

The flames of which are fed our lies.

Wonder, horrors, bitter brains.

The rest of which go through our veins.

All these flames must know us well.

Them through which we bleed our hell.

Tastes like water, tastes like rain.

Standing, burdened, bent by shame.

Their eras passed and pillars folded.

Then lain flat by their devoted.

These blue acres till their plots.

Growing something. Given thoughts.

And now beholden to waking powers.

These the ones that made all hours.

Our lady parted, lightly dressed.

Now once absent once was blessed.

Shiny glasses filled with brine.

The salt and sulphur reign through time.

The green, glass windows shining high.

The light of which to all apply.

The threads of fate to us they tie.

Through them we live.

Through them we die.

The dark, the light inside of me.

Declarations bestowed to thee.

This through which you all receive.

What you feel points toward a source.

Just like stars that point towards North.

Yet we face toward desire that will always

guide us home. Regardless of the

condemnation found in many tomes.

If inclinations dwell in the heart of man it

so dwelth in our god. That which once lay

hidden in the staff and in the rod.

One's knowledge comes from within to find,

and all can dwell in heart and mind.

Untended fruits do tend to spoil.

It’s rare to see a blooming garden.

Rare to see a good man pardoned.

But beyond my scope,

My line of vision

I wish to mend all man’s derision.

For who can comb a writhing sea?

A hopeless love or deity.

For what’s in knots may be secure.

A quiet lass may seem demure.

But our eyes deceive if not well guided.

A world closed off if we’ve decided.

To live a life with feet well planted.

Limiting its scope and its expansion.

I’d I try to live like leaves exploring.

Overgrowth looks so alluring.

So climb and choke all things that hinder.

Be the match and be the tinder.

All things are done through one’s own action.

So know your heart and find your traction.

Don’t die alive amongst distraction.

The bringers of the coming doom

Light and blaze the empty mile

Pray for horizon, sleep, and smile

Beg for them or nothing much

Marsh or shores or evening clutch

I am the sheep. The bakers mile.

I am the all. The praise worth while

And here in clay and mud and grime.

I am the you. The most sublime.