|Posted by FAINOMENON on October 23, 2013 at 8:00 AM|
As I look outside, my window clutters
from the charge of mighty steeds,
echoes of thunder, unspeakable deeds
most ancient, secret, unfathomable matters.
'Tis not the trees I see, of now;
captured in the afterburn of things unseen,
long dead, but not forgotten, somehow;
a sea coils there: an ocean of liquid wings.
A thick, boiling ocean; a heaving abyss
of spirits and others who follow the trail
Clotho weaves, unsmiling; oblivious in bliss.
O ye, like a sang song. Like a merry wag tail;
yet indifferent, staring, with fingers of thorn
coldly stirring the chaos, the whispering foam.
And I welcome the waters. I gladly give in
I open the windows, I welcome them in...