Glory Knight
A sorrow, of a stirring, sleepless morn
I began to dream thus with my mind wide open
And t’was the strangest thing, too!
With the rolls of thunder thrashing and wind thus tepid
Sweet daffodils and thyme brush her brave calloused feet
And a handsome honeyed sunset, shaking off the chained darkness
Whose cold claws fed its radiant heart with utmost despair
Filed under 
Little Brown Puddle
Shows my reflection so, never a lie
Alas hides me crying from within.
Rippling gently and stirring uneasily
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The Resin Blood
Your fingertips, held at pursed lips,
Rest poised for a moment of action
That you might strike a sickle deep
Into the vast heart of darkness
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