A Woolen Time

Sum times
Darkness and lights
adding up sometimes
Sparkling in the tapestry of mistakes

Whole visions sprouting
futile as the grass towards winter
Summer's due
Mistaken for grievance

Bound by more than
Lesson's Learned
Denial doesn't soften any blows
nor lessen winds determined

Aching

In solace born in lies
Truth tells tales
which dead man thought to hold
and wrap as tight as autumn wool

In steel and splendour
trapped are freedom and loss
Winsome whorls of pale glamour
which divide us from our place

Oroboros spits out his tail
so that life might not go on
Hunger pulls and draws
the circle closed

Aching

To be grown again
from the worms' workings wrought in ice
and the warmth
of what has never been

Aching is this dream so real...