Incisor
Gauntlet’s thrown
Trails
beyond the coil’s might
Tightly
strung is carnelian’s light
Trans-lucent milky
The
crystals made from chalcedony
Impostor,
so be found, deep inside, shies the arch of trothed pass
To one’s self, insolence retraced,
The
fiend, which feasts on veils of glass
Is
nothing more than a past-life erased
Tapestries
fade
And
new draperies take their place
Time’s
sand sifts though
But only if you forget to reverse its flow
