Question of time and place

My mind reads words found in the sky

I stroke the soft thoughts as clouds float by

In wonder of the mood I curse the moon

Take back the music of the loon

Her lips though perfect, belong to the buffoon



So tired is the perfection he searches high and low

His heart is never satisfied no mater where he goes

Neither pain of thought nor eye of gold lay to page

A silence of a morning waste words left off in rage

Wings of angels clipped least they fly high on stage



Shallow heart what makes you stay to bleed

A tree tall and strong grew from a single seed

Words upon a field of sand crumble under feet of clay

Whose whore are you on this very placid day

It was a nymph and god that allowed you today



Branch of life I do not know you dying place

I thought you were the reigning king of race

So willingly you lay your lifeblood down

I often stop why do they place you in the ground

No marker do I see no wonder of the life sound



Pale is day as the sun falls in the west

Crying body meet almost every test

Wandering tears reaches a tired soul

The master seeks and claims all the gold

All I have is ever gone I never grow old