to ken a lil bit 'o nothing
is to own the arcane's
trail of wreckage….
allow the path to twist,
though The Deceiver's view
verges on the blasphemous
the jewels of life's decency
though humble,
shine all the brighter….
did they exist at all
before adversity
had been swept aside
by time's draught?
the water sheds it's shell,
writhing
and disgorging forth
bitter ashes
to be swept away,
tarnished and mildewed
waves
left debauched
beside the shores
of affection and
torn, trampled
ideals
of those left over thoughts
whirling
and gasping
for excess's splurge
the need to expel
tantamount
to a firey
conflagration
of echoed
fragility….
'for zenithed insights
wither….
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