The Tapestry

Voices disembodied
Memories without name
Rise freely from cashmere thoughts
As doves
Flying high from sight, like ghosts upon the morn

Fields of illusion dare sweep away the tears
Of paintings wrought by madmen
As I lay dreaming of castles in the dust
In a room filled with grey
And blood

How leaves have turned to ash
And shadows have turned pale
Like floating agony
To follow fingers drawn in red
As the last trace of life lies bleeding in the storm

The amber of soundless moaning pounds the walls
As a vulture, come to collect the feast
Devouring silver tears
Which rose from the silent grave
Of my soul

Shreds of an endless tapestry
Flow from walls of black
In effigy, torn and shaking
On floors filled with lust
As the music reigned supreme

My desolate wish for ending
Whispered to the falling sand
In the sudden silence which drove its claws
Through my helpless body
Pierced with solitude and suffering

Images flow from eyes of madness
Waiting for the weaver’s dream
As shadows watch the dancing path
Of the circling firelight
Fading from within these enchanted walls of sleep…

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