Nodding Away at the Skyline

drama in violin
play through the night,
as minutes rush towards
the dawn. these eyes
anticipate no sleep.

in the spring
warmth fills the air
and leave no sight,
yet evening rolls
unconscious in its
newly found
blossoms.

the churches
in this season,
fast in hopes of
redemption.

yet no season
with names from
my pocket, is
heaven sent.

thunder mumbles
in a distant land,
yet not too far,
but just enough,
for time to stand.

rain will not come,
so continues the
play,
of the band

cymbals crash
and natures
clash, far beyond
a psychological
horizon, set afire
by our dying
rational.

let the blue snakes
commune with the
land, and the violet
rattlers consume
violence at hand.

the night is still
dark.

will night first
embark?

though it is
morning and the
moon has quit its
learning, dew
raises at the sign of
lights first
yearning.

 

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