Wipe your eyes clean
Not belonging to the presence of pain.
You are a sorry sight
With stillness to each shallow breath
That comes up
A throat as hollow as a whisper
You make, as you shudder
Upon the fright of your night.
Let your eyes raise up
Blue iris for blue sky.
The windswept tears need to make it
Away from thee, and over to be
Growing new porcelain stems,
Forming the empire of your wisdom,
While you lose the stones.
Your pale color
To a bloodless sadness.
Reap your rewards, on the destination
To a betterment.
I have soaked myself in your revival,
Set myself to secure your survival,
For I have tempered my arms in love.
Your beauty runs rampant,
Alongside the sea,
Where all comes to be
Of moons that knew only sorrow,
Of tears that knew to only fall
To raise from the earth tomorrow’s growth.