clay phoenix

[coarse quest]

V beautiful

Spear of light, the slackening skin of dark has cloven.
Now wicks the shroud, from that spilling wound:-
The infant morn;
Crimson ensanguined gulf of night that widens still

Flower inwoven scent, and mud and sun
Thaw indolent senses with soft succourance

Little wings climb the distant air
And fill the winds with strains rare
Half peopled stands a house of worship and solemn are it's prayers woven
How every pause is spangled with aeolian undertones.
Shadowless, gaitless my form takes walk, tramples dry leaves(avoids green)
(At this time no light burns, no shade sought)

There is no time as this to grow old

Spirit of the hour says our spoil is won
Now we are free to dive or soar or run
As to the hoary night the lord has pledged many suns