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Verse I

deep into a garden light beyond closed latched gate lifted by two trees


hinges collapsing yet upon branches limbs they hang from tattered rope


frayed from wind whipping each and everyday in all of times swing grazed


by cold winds whom ask not nor heed not upon sunbeams whom do ignite


the mask laying beneath leaves from summer to fall to winters white cloak


shaken off by forest folk ever careful not to disturb the settled mask in dirt


windless dancing flowers bloom rainfalls from clouds above and grasses


green and poison berries grow round vine like between hanging clusters


of ivy as raindrops get caught in acorn shells for fairys tiny hands all covered


in blood black thorns attack the face attached to the white mask hidden by


the shadow a stone marked ancient grave promises of a more blessed frame


rising from death's posture unto a living walking being is not fortunes plan


keeping to keeping the mask deeply dreaming sleep for death is taking to


going between heaven's revelry and hell's forgetful raiment losing time &


getting lost within worlds whom have no place for happenstance whilest


streaming pasts caught by every catch whirling seaward to oceans open


open open thee thy gate shaking a key at wooden planks kept hanging


between two trees holding on for dear life as storming minds crashing


tither and hither rises and falls demise as shadows pull away each and


every prisoner whom does lay their hands upon heaven's entrance like


a ship goes out to sea like a sailing mast needs wind for handwriting


sailing free empty of all time's morsels all time is time again to no one


and for no one does time's sand fall but whom does turn to dust to dust


pieces of sharp broken bones aligning where once was buried sleep to


be remembered on a better night a better fight between no man sees


between natures cruel design hidden mind what gate are thee seeking


waking up on a sidewalk of a street in some far off disappearing dream


looking for what exactly has been lost crawling on hands and knees sworn


just a moment ago just an instance it was here and now where has it gone


to thee where has thy face been found buried beneath a tree somewhere


next to a grave keeping self from self with molten chains bolted tightly to


and from death walks keeping things orderly losing touch creating breath


walking beneath streetlamps the white mask of societies social circles laughs


tilting backwards tapping cane shining shoes stripping dames a dozen to


a damsel mistress wherefore art thou tongue be lucid and with effort then


with force breaking the clasps of the corset of the dying skin rotting corpse


buried deep in a garden masked as a forest all setting scene all living green


growing from out of a dream barely grasped by consciousness collapses by


a hanging gate above a stone tied tight to two trees burning reflection in a


dark lake shimmering instant of a memory polished plate bleeding hearts


bursting headlong through and through by and by and forevermore gone

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