When the heart is empty, the mind might focus
To find, a fiery fate, with the Autumn Crocus
Although the thought is toxic, like an acid kiss
Nothing else will matter, if not being, is bliss
A clock stops ticking, when there's a broken cog
And reality's a phantom, when it's milling fog
For if the eyes cannot see, a course, to guide
There's no way ahead, that's not death defied
If there's no aroma, when the flowers bloom
The only time that is left, is a time, too soon
For to feed on a harvest, that's poison laced
Is bitter, though sweet, in it's burning haste
When those, apparitions, were never there
The soul is lost, like an unanswered prayer
And without reason, the mind, won't focus
As the body gorges, on the Autumn Crocus
No comments:
Post a Comment