A blood moon frolicked to the astronomic blood dance, positioned in tyranny with humanity’s
fading memory of inequity.
All the weight on the scale of justice licks at the past, licking at its magical poison while
changing the season’s garment.
And the stain that plagues our mortality, a curse of birth with libations free flowing in heaven
is only a dream catcher of mockery.
The potter’s wheel spins me with a vertiginous hand shaping the universe that has had a
message sent into the invisible,
While all is hidden in a paradox, sealed with the fingers of flames which write secrets with an
enigmatic line in the sands of defiance.
Life grips the house of infinity with the windows of chance reflecting an image of incessant
jargon; a blind image sewn into the clouds of forewarning.
You become a belief in your own creation releasing the waltz of nightmares that scratch at your
essence to the chagrin of the last dot of spilled ink.
You witness images that chill your bones and stir you in the vortex of hostility.
The purging extension of pantomimes mimicking solitude throw pestilence to the mind which
jars the clanking of euphemistic prison bars.
The multitude driven to insanity with no shady corners to be hidden and no refuge from
predictions and prophecies that have gone mad.
And the dragon’s shadow heeds no warning from the old soul travelling with the pen of
All has been seen before in the storm of tears, filling with transient thoughts of water,
spilling from frames within a frame.
The siblings of the vine serenade an evil empire with a betrayal of crossing over, within the
schism of nothingness.
I sewed the stars together glittering the sky with twinkles – a last hope of bread crumbs to see
beforehand what is to come.
Within my globe many clouds rose from the earth in the heat wave of winds dispersing
An advisory to mankind of a bubbling cauldron of apocalyptical seasons and the thorns of the
rose brewing with a candle’s tear of horror.
And there it was.
A blood moon.
A sackcloth sun.