Amethyst Diamond Eye

If I could, I would.
But the moon lights my course down “Little Till” trail.
Voided, worn the shade and the past is cold still.
I stood, among wood.
The fern’s fantastic dance spurned the quiet pull.

An echo, of the special.
Occult feeds the song over cries of possessions toys.
Soon to fuel the cycle of entropy, of the core key’s.
To let go, of the male.
And forego the stranded child, forever his sad commentaries.

So teach me, you preach me.
The rule and meter mark your onus to define.
You govern this ken as if yours to supine.
You spit me, you pit me.
But as yet, my pretty boy fashion abashes to decline.

I am here, here I am.
Stand I, as the stone, I stand as stone here.
Do I glare at the gale, and the gale to defy this glare?
Imagination, imagination.
Stagnant tyranny dispersed by my white picket fence.

I am the exception to the rule.
I am the exception to the rule.
I must always be,
an exception to the bane of our heart.

The Mystery Valiant
8-24-2002