Lifes Work

Timber lime on starlit rouge Swath be thine tiery gaze Upon the crimson braids And heaving bosom behind Morning fog. Fog of pipe and heart, minds Speak, three in one of sight Unfettered by trues or light For silence concealed prosperous Feelings and insecure of voice. As westerly rays consume Mornings due, the conches Awoke brimming in aspiration And open weakness, nudity of soul The judgment passed in tender Telling, eye’s of heart and mind Consoled pasts tribulations Concluding fears grip and passions Cloud.