Speerit's Wordforge

 Aloft a timeless sunrise The mountain’s voice crackles and snaps The morning’s fast endures Cans and cups discarded The fuel soaks the grass Before the winking recklessness Unbound, a vessel joins the fray To feed its fleeing tenant Canvas shelter whirls free And voices short and frantic Skip among the rocks and trees Silent now before the horror Ashen walls reveal the lie The air of burning petrichor Youthful foolish gallantry A casket open to the sky.

  I trust you lord For your shadow girds the earth, gives measure to the deep. I cannot see, I cannot hear, the screaming bells cast searing heat, a corona hot and bittersweet carves temple grounds in my deceit. A viper does not know the sky, apart from soft-edged silhouettes that crawl along the ground, reflections of penumbral actors, changing without sound. So too are we confined to dust, our avarice a painting brush, and as we slither and mistrust, leaving naught but bones upon the ground. The teeth of hounds grapple with my spirit, rending silver-tinted melodies across the black expanse. Towers claw towards the heavens like fingers on the deserts hand, from windows high and balconies grand, the song of my tribulations echo in palaces of sand. “May God bless you. May he whisk you from this fate! Like a Zephyr blows a field of wheat, your God is like a quaff of wine that dries the tongue in desert heat” The lords of towers tall and white arrogantly mock the King of praise and pr...