Enchantment Of Acorns That Gather
In graceful dance of ever, as fountains have towered above me The days of celebration and that of the foul lake Fathers of the knell... ...burn up the sun And pluck me from my ripeness As passion dies As love itself has failed And unto the earth we thrive Of acorns that gather and cradle to kindest of ears Even they are judged to a wintertide... ...judged by sorrow days Through windows of sunken eyes As time leads our summer's on Nothing but idle tales... ...and flowers yet to be fair Make the berries glutton with awe Borrowed tears like a troubled ocean, thorns Of earth's delight Gathered like spreading fields for a fallow year Deflower for love is a fever... ...and I swear from time... ...I even pity beauty itself
