A poem…

If I could

Behead

My nightmares

It would count

Ten gold buttons

All that old

Time

Would be mine

Free berry trees

White wash streams

Over berry clouds

Gold leaf rain

On the horizon

Each dance

Moves to the

Next

We dive

With the wind

All the oceans

Not worth the

Gold

In Nero’s garden

Compared to

Your love

A man

Slain by

Love,

The cruelest dagger

It is no strange

Thing.

Better to be

Consoled

Cooling the flames

With cold rain

Than to let myself

Burn,

Even Peter died

When he emerged

From fire,

That hermit who

Was a terror to

The saracen

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