The lines of digits never cease
To run about in graphs of junction,
They oscillate and then decrease
Below the limits of their function.
They flow in asymptotic ways
Beyond the points of
I cannot hope to live forever,
I cannot risk a bold endeavor,
I cannot smell the incense burn,
I cannot feel the winds that turn.
I cannot taste the morning dew,
I cannot question what I
No goblin, dwarf or even elf
Has knowledge of an ancient trade
That tiny spirits of the wealth
Endow upon a moment’s jade.
They polish crystals like a pixy,
And whisper old arcanum louder,
To
Rise and breathe the morning breeze
Rusty pack of wheels and chains,
Sprockets, springs and oily veins,
To restore your memories!
Turn your hydraulic arms,
Blink your electronic eyes,
‘Till
Oh, sing to me the silver tunes
Of martyrs and of tone rebellion
Until a fragile note impugns
The very heart of their battalion.
Recite to me a tale in verse,
The likes of which the bards
Her angel figure wears a cloak
Of demons and enticing pleasures
That rest in silence to provoke
The mantle of elusive measures
And she escapes without a touch,
While blending shadows in her
‘Pon the eerie moors and plains,
Over many distant fords,
A tiding o’the grass retains
The wisdom of the clover folds.
On misty mornings found, alas!
It hid beside a lonely rock...
Just keep
In sight have come the rites of spring
And so the petals hatch again
To bloom the fruit of orchards when
The bluebirds gently sing.
Repainted are the walls of Terra
With colors green and
I pray
That I should see the dusk of ending’s day
Fall,
As burning shadows come consume my soul.
Lies!
The paragons of light and truth
Disguise
Demons of elusive ties and wicked
The days upon a week are seven,
The Moon upon the sky is one,
But I knoweth no shameful heaven
And tainted angels I know none.
The lovers that unite are two,
In seeds of love becometh
Come to me sweet words of rhyme,
Take my hands and carry me
Pon’ the wings of melody
To space and time sublime.
Put all of my fears in chains,
Take me to the land of thoughts,
Where there are
I’ve cried the tears of weeping willows
And wiped my face on velvet pillows
While resting thoughts of agony
Betrayed the aches she couldn’t see.
I moaned my call to aspens mellow
Of forests
W