Take my song,
My slipshod verse:
Hurl it in the center
Of the eager earth's furnace.
My insymphonic lyrics
Are the detritus of autumn.
Let them lie in stolidity
'Til spring to rot
Under winter's thumb.
Give me life
Via art's entombment,
Read the desperation in
The smokescreen of my words
& dissipate it with your
Compassioning prescence.
Render me ageless
By the churning of
The axle of belief
Until inversion
Becomes my
Salve.
Paint me as a metallic dragonfly
On your stained-glass chapel;
Invoke me in the pyrotechnics
Of your daydream.
In the contemplation
Of my abscence glean not sorrow,
But purest joy in the sublimation
Of my false form.
Gone is my song,
Silent my verse.
Mute now my pen,
Love, my heart's hearse.
@d-pend