These bones are underfed
Every faded fruit been bled
Cauterised by fires
I should have burrowed through my tongue
But each trouble has a twist
As every silent ship is missed
Once the singing turns to fables
Of the songs already sung
And while the dawn will surely come
Casting light on every crumb
The ravens have arisen
As dark shadows on the bow
To feast against the flood
Forage marrow from the mud
As we drift from our inertia
Like the cattle to a sow
Between sagebrush and clove
Will he grasp my hand?
Each stone unturned turns irrevocably to sand
As I perch between lights
The delight of the crowds
Passes blind through the smoke
Like a wandering sow
Cast down through the ash
To come up like leaves
The catch of regret as the thought proceeds
The sky blinks alive with placid repose
As translated by eyes to divine I suppose