“If you believe nothing more I have to say, pray, have faith in this”

[senorfrito]

As the hawk mews;
Like Us and Them,
And Me in You;
The world’s a blemish,
In celestial hues.

What then ensues,
With the failure of darkness,
And thus tenaciously imbues
This heavenly necessity,
Whereunto are formed cordial blues?

Same as we be mad-
Characterized by immaculate swoons-
Think it less not glad
As we dance with the Moon,
And you wish you had.

And so, wherefore art thou,
In this dubious, swindling snowstorm?
With the scarecrow unto his plow;
Rend your mourning upon morning,
Insofar as you riddle that bovine sow.

Therefore, we are insomuch
As the reaper amongst the children-
Steadfast as the ocean’s vacant, fleeting clutch.
Like Whereof and When,
Alleviating a most fiery-furnace touch.