Lifting your youth and yowl,
whilst the gale sings its prowl,
all heaven unto hell,
the rain into thy heart befell.

Far, the longest way
from these insipid hearts
may you find thee,

This life cannot live alone.
Sexual sin is not my abode.
Lust and covetousness cannot suffice.
Though I've sinned, the end hath arised.
This hath been an impetuously long war.

As much with heart and valor,
Unto a summer's breaking sigh.
The tranquility of this hour!
Of a June moment gone by.

I uphold and retain thy shine.
Absolution to bereft,

Lost hymn, though melody hath died.
And no spore dares to spring the season life.
Not a petal turns hence, upon my step.
Onward this day since, I folly every breath.

Looking north, I see the severed path of storm.
The leaves and rustling forms,
behest and deprave me, all the more.
As I seek your shining eyes,
and they reach and deceive me.

Solace in seclusion, efface the crest of breaking dawn.
Lavish long, and believe the love,
Of morning, the stranger behest, to eyes unknown,
Where the light revives the meagre rest.

As an autumnal breeze, breaches the horizon.
Like placid gems, only without the rising,
Hue of catatrosphe, lain to spur contempt.
The malady their beauty remains,
in golden glistened mint.

Scrupulous desire and a pompous niche.
For love, hath beauty! Your eyes remark a sullen tinge.
I see the blue pervasive white, above mine eyes.

The words manifest sufficed,
lest I feign a new complexion.
Upon devastation, eyes adhere to me.
Long decension it hath been,
as if discernement for the weary
were a sin.

As long as you know,
where secrets tire their threaded hope.
Seems desire left much reflection grown.
Not only are we, as lonesome as alone.
Truth and Speculation, answer

Is it the edges of the world you seek?
Eradicating memory of all we once held.
A more dour feeling than love beheld,
our hearts our brillant autumn evening.

Joyous and resound,
the world is ours for now.
The bare shade won't weep,
all the secrets we shall keep.

The bitterness of the cold,
and it's decadent snare, won't corrupt

At the bottom of hell is where I came to,
storming around and reconciling through.
The day won't end and it's regret will soothe,
my obscurity of red, intertwined with blue.

Failure and destiny vary as the tide's blue dreams,
and the benevolence of the deep I can't conjure nor receive.
The splendour of awe that englufs my arid flee,

How lovely is the sound O'Lord.
I love you more than love's accord.
The limbs loaf among my leave,
my wind's wake warmly welcomes thee.
The faint has fallen on me finally,