(no subject)
InnocentInsomniac (114)
I dream of silly little things,
Of intricate design,
Which indicate my lunacies,
And hint at the divine:
Images of shattered gems
And quaint impurities,
Such hypocritical decrees,
Thumping texts ferociously;
Centaurs shooting fire arrows,
Each bow across the sky,
Hitting hearts of gold
To let purest pilgrim die;
Cage-d lions without claws,
Lacking teeth to bear any arms,
Paraded down the cross-roads
As the people come in swarms;
An acrid wine--a poor merlot,
Would better be a mix,
To dab upon a salted sponge,
And pressed upon his lips.
Waking children hope to never see
Traces from the darkest of the mire,
But as a sleeping babe awakes,
So does he to this raging fire.
-K.
I dream of silly little things,
Of intricate design,
Which indicate my lunacies,
And hint at the divine:
Images of shattered gems
And quaint impurities,
Such hypocritical decrees,
Thumping texts ferociously;
Centaurs shooting fire arrows,
Each bow across the sky,
Hitting hearts of gold
To let purest pilgrim die;
Cage-d lions without claws,
Lacking teeth to bear any arms,
Paraded down the cross-roads
As the people come in swarms;
An acrid wine--a poor merlot,
Would better be a mix,
To dab upon a salted sponge,
And pressed upon his lips.
Waking children hope to never see
Traces from the darkest of the mire,
But as a sleeping babe awakes,
So does he to this raging fire.
-K.