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My Maiden


From the bosom she blossomed, a maiden

wove from the finest threads of silk

and sinewed stars.

Lace beneath her chin

with blotted lips of red

beaded from the tulips breast

skin fair

pale as the cryptic moonlight.

While pedals plucked

"He loves me not..."

She dusted across the town

And at last the crowns of the men

and of the women

were laid down

Through pools of ash and dirtied snow

she wandered sifting through the stones

gleams of light and tarnished jewels

to find the threads that made her pure

with spirits bursting from the flame

Oh quietly, she softly sang

“I taste thy delicate melodies

Oh sweet songs of the earth.

I hear the birds in the dwindling trees

Singing songs of mankind

and mortality.

From the growth of each verse

Bleeds the roots of the trees

It echo’s the dusk

And charcoals the leaves

Oh sweet, ooh sweet mortality

Reminding,

Reminding me

Of the ages gone by, and those yet to be

Sifting, sifting,

through God’s grainy flesh

To love every stone."

"Oh sweet, ooh sweet mortality

Reminding,

Reminding me

Of the ages gone by, and those yet to be

The songs of mankind

Sung in the perishing trees

The songs of mankind

and mortality.”

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