Today I am serious, not tomorrow and not yesterday, and in a little 'and just before either.
So at the moment that the claws on the glass quiver you dedicate three poems that tell of an argument expensive and unknown to man.
are all the same story, the same story repeated countless times to no avail.
The story of the man who is deluded.
The circle of illusion.
shaggy coat of the bear
singer torn glove man dreaming. Raven
lone tree hanging
emit the sound of bated breath,
echoes in the world the vibrant note
captured the true shaman dance. You slept on the glass suspended
eternal gift of God
tasteless winter hours
awakened from sleep forced
raises the lion's roar
winged eagle blessed
emit the sound of the sea lapping the perfect sphere.
Passion hid the broken dream
radius of iridescent glass hand,
languid caress of the silver wire
now left to the child of sin.
Use the claw of the wolf
golden sun breaks the glass silver
indeed uncover the truth
infernal shade suspended from the ford of evil. Nothing exists in the reflection
broken and the God Delusion that I created.
The circle of elements.
The sigh welcomes the beloved land
licking the pouring rain in the sky like snow whitens the aisle
built by the magma of black hair.
echoing the sound of harmony
running on the wings of the wind lost
still has the flavor of the straight path
immersed in the memory locked in time.
Oh if I could now be
demon and angel in my presence
would avoid the pending trial date
gaining the respect of the elements. They laugh at my thoughts
chanting songs of dancing fauns
yet understand the pain in their black
left by those who saw the steaming coils.
Here the circle closes opening
sea air and ground fire
emitting the breath that I am
aisle with a little white collapses.
Everything is repeated in endless loop
illusion that is pointing the finger.
The circle of life.
In the memory you turn on the fire,
ancestral legacy of the double quivering, innocent flesh
served by the cook, ivory
history oozing mind. Remember the heat off
key eye stained glass? Lost in oblivion
the sacred wind
illuminating the foot on the black sun.
By now it is time to call him the future fate
epitaph past hidden in the dark who loves
black light of the sun hidden and guarded.
enlightened breaking the ring in the circle
detached stained with disdain
go fighting with the sword the beautiful
master actor who has your heart in pawn.
However, the glass does not break the sound vermilion
accepts the silence watching the child.
The three intersecting circles, sacred and sacrilegious, in the hands of man.
break or Chains? The obvious answer is why you're here.
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