build a temple of a thousand pieces
intricately arranged. Inside give
marigold blessings beneath the fragile
altar, voicing golden drenched
altar, voicing golden drenched
sentiments of praise. The beauty of the
pearl, the delight of the growth, the
hope to hold the young queen in your
sight, the champagne dizziness of life.
The patterns of tiles that don't quite fit,
the quiet marbled palace floor, the wheel
The patterns of tiles that don't quite fit,
the quiet marbled palace floor, the wheel
of fortune that lands on death, young moon
too young to find its foot. Bow down to grief
the pains of birth, lost hope of future's wish.
So much happened to me in July that I'm shocked my notebook isn't filled with pages and pages of new poems. I guess I find it hard to write as I'm going through an experience with words a little easier to find, once I'm out :)
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