A bottomless urn feeds itself
From a summation of goodness and the splendor of light
Refracting through the gate
Is spinning the same threads of loss and sorrow
Until the molding breaks
And the threads are fraying on the matrons loom
Belie and withhold from unbecoming
Unseated from the parapet
Plummeting from the perch
Now less than an urchin gasping for air
There's no peace in your halls
Only dereliction
Rings are falling from your mail
Dreams are crumbling before your eyes
Only derеliction and high fells sit in wait
From a summation of goodness and the splendor of light
Refracting through the gate
Is spinning the same threads of loss and sorrow
Until the molding breaks
And the threads are fraying on the matrons loom
Belie and withhold from unbecoming
Unseated from the parapet
Plummeting from the perch
Now less than an urchin gasping for air
There's no peace in your halls
Only dereliction
Rings are falling from your mail
Dreams are crumbling before your eyes
Only derеliction and high fells sit in wait
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