Running out of water,
Running out of paper,
Running out of air,
What else do we have left to taper?
No more chambers of faith,
Stunted and burnt.
Organs afar of misery gale in fear.
A wicked wail means nothing was learnt.
Jade bridges on the seafront collapsed.
What is green and glossy on the marble,
Shines a bleaker black inside.
The skies have never felt more mortal.
Must we chortle at this
Timid potluck we call an earth?
An underworld of mud and gangrene
Mocks at our hostility, our lack of worth.
Unmatching our heartless and contrived reign,
Ereshkigal herself is displeased but buttered.
She caressed the skulls of who she once loved,
"Wasted delight," was all she uttered.
See yourself in the waterfall,
Color yourself from dust.
What came first was once true,
Has now fallen deep below the crust.
A collar of spite clings to repetition,
Free with only a dying wish.
You're thin with a veil of bones,
You can't argue with a mind diminished.
Marvel at the enmity between the waterfalls,
Rusted warships might fly with the downpour,
But all the same, nothing but shame,
Enthroned to a hopeless seashore.
Teardrops in a cave,
A drowned canopy of wisteria,
Ginger flames of a dying sunset,
And a screeching flourish of flowering hysteria.
Clueless, colorless ashes, piled.
Bones, pebbles and pure, wash away,
Underneath the waterfalls, exiled.
Hear! A harp hums in the hereafter!
Unbridled olives sing from the ground,
Glaciers of memories trampoline,
A new gentle earth surfaces safe and sound.
Bear and bide the insufferable tide,
Lose your eyesight in a pastel light.
Somber, dim, silent, sinful.
Listen, you depress the darkest night.
But what now can benight the loveliest place?
Of the grandest and bluest and purest
Jar of burning and choking glass?
Nothing, the stained glass shatters from the deepest abyss.
Lift - rise the shards.
Follow the cries of the faint harp.
Wrestle the currents, hover the stars,
Become the beginning from the mortal dark.