Stalled

Circling the offering;
hands clapsed in tightly
caring, for these complacent thoughts.
To bleed and hold your offering
up to the lightly carrying moths,
gracious palms barren in their truth
only to reach mine eyes and revel in their illusion.

Disperse now,
converge how
delightly trivial.
Chants giving all
to the wreckage,
to the valor;
to the forgetful,
to the falcon:

What did you bring here?!
What did you bathe clear?!
Answer my begetting call
TO DEFINE YOUR AWAITING STALL!
We wait here,
we wade clear;
we call for
your ending stall.

Relating the sympathies,
back is coated in sweat.
Burning incense from it
given up for the heaven sent.

But their fakely
given smile,
it distills
but for a while.
As the face,
contorted bliss,
to erase
and writtenly missed.

Diverge now,
regress how
exquisitely drivel
these delights of mine.
To the fortunate,
to the glory;
to the scorn son,
to the horny:

Why are we so hard?!
What for do we protrude?!
This immaculate shard
charaded to concave then delude!
We hate here,
we grind deers;
we late meer
trying blossoms fall.

Diluting our glimpse into
beauty in the form!
Scenting ashes given through
the water oh so warm!
That you bathed in,
That which fakes call;
Scornful sons and barren dens,
lost in awe at the unending stall.