Before our time,
before years that said no,
the brilliance of sunshine brought a stillness without peace.
Long-burning flames in a darkness untouched by starlight
wrought the suckling glamour of burgundy passion -
these wants -
our tears on the wayside -
glimmering now and forever.
Before the dawn,
before wrong illumined the path,
folly foretold a breed of crimson certainty.
This prophecy, our sweeping metronome of toil and travel,
a black hand quaking nighly in the ink-like hour,
tears away a future burned in ash.
Power pierces the faultless heart of legend;
ivory into a rabid kiss. We lust,
lust still:
alone in the soft, unfolding darkness,
poetic octopi blackening the world with yearning ink;
we channel time to years of forlorn conception,
relenting, reveling in our moon-born rise
Shirihjah Tari