Sky without a whisper or waver:
gold distort before the storm-
endless in it's wake,
resonates autumn thoughts in shrouded poetry.
An entwined dreamer, descending as his
lost grave washes away:
From dust to fire an ethereal trial partakes.
"In waiting I'm shaking
purging sin by skinning memory
denying everything...
the sky blue day with you."
It came from magnetic poetry- I've had such a block for a couple years now this may be my last post in prose. Hope it does something to someone.
