Withering Heaven

Lonely meeting-place safely iridescent to teetering towers of grace.
Silently dream your own creation from divine irritation
Reveals its pearl, such do you puke the imagination

I wondered withering on a bow and came across a field of dead
And within that glory sought a bower where I could safely rest my head.
Hedonism hid itself in my delight, it was the lesser thought.

I wandered why I did not seek and renewed my vigilance of the weak.
I looked longingly on an island and returned onto dust from tombs of light.
Such is this death of world expression.

Such was my sole discretion in supplanting towers of light.
I endlessly revered destruction as a reconstitution of decay.
And splendour posting no limit at the dawn of day.

Such was light taken fright at its own withering upon God's bow.
I sought a slumber from the graveyard where the vines grew ripening.
The crackled pebbles of most dead disciples of forgotten tongue, forgotten promises.

Carved into the memory of the lasting expression
A quote from somewhere else, something else, nothing remaining of the memory
Saved death frame.

Expressing place and steep climb unto another death and a becoming enthralled in a net. God sought children to mount his defence in heaven he created a world without suspense. In this decay where hither I climb I see my redemption in the world of time.

She sought her infinity in splendour of becoming, and I sought a moment of justification between a bisexual plant that withered along its journey tending to break
When sudden inspiration started to wake in heaven supplanted in the bow.

Rending deep widening now, it grew and reached through its stalk.
Carving through the tombstones chalk toward Heaven it went in rising moment in death's composure to show the finality of infinity in meeting-place.