Apart from the sun,
As the seasons come undone
To reveal where teardrops fell
As anchors to the fetid mist.
Your arms in the rain,
In the attempt to drench the pain.
Tied together in savage looseness,
While winter ceases the hail
That Springtime had called down –
Upon your displayed frown.
You forever wish to decay
More than either leaves or Heaven.
With clasped hands,
To send prayers for crippled towns
As mirrors raise from sands.
The feathers adorn you,
Raise you to the hour of blue –
When teardrops will create a route
Outside of dreams and bloodstreams,
Apart from withering moments
When your broken wings dance about.
I will be the relit sun
To offer you daylight with thunder –
For one, with the memory
With two for captured symmetry.
A bolt of sadness still curses you.
I will rain the sun’s glory
To raise you –
To the ever-resplendent blue
Gathering from grey to be anew.