With splendid trees
foliaged with
mystic leaves
I have wandered
and remorsed
with thieves
I have walked alone.
Between shards and toads
among stepping stones
to witness
aberrations untold
emotional clones
In my mind, I could not weep.
Shadowed in fog
of the mass
through eyes of glass
minds opened
and sewn
as treason
passed
I have flickered from grace.
And though winter's crisp
degraded by
a lisp
I have found
in the
beckoning flames
that do
wisp
The peace of sleeping dogs.
