Day follows day until it's questioned why;
It enlaces with viscid, strangling wear
This errant, curious mind
Coloured were the wings of a dream
That cleaved against the wind;
On marble, through the flame,
Their ash so grey
Treat the thoughts like they have been your own,
Besotted with her whispered song;
Riding a decuman wave
Of destiny's storm-she breathes
Scope the links of knots in your web
Sharp emerald eyes to face:
Enchanting quiet of her intent glance to share
Deft, thorough hands sort breathing spheres
Of tiny snow-white flames
In yearning to be found,
Their lights are so frail
In maze of fate there are lots of turns to choose,
But narrow is the funnel throat they all lead to