to clutch the reigns of Nocturns eternal attributes
she rises, weilding white stormy steads to reclaim the perfect and calming nature of her presence.
does not each one deserve the peace of her chrimson repreave?
does not the light that animates the whites of their eyes give proof?
each one tearing at the veil of their own lotus bud skin
longing to blossom and live a thousand lives
only to return to the muddy muck of her jungle floor
to burrow deep into steamy chambers
we wallow and clutch the dripping hearts of the underworld
tasting the remnants of what will be tomorrows festival prize
these tears of hers holding the balance
conjuring the black and white chalice
to drink and nearly choke
on this liquid truth
to spell the word love
with whispers beyond a canvas
this is the gift of Hierophant’s longings
this is the lush internal workings
of Horace’s vision
scribing on the insides of your eyelids
L I S T E N