High above the futility of being,
Tears stain the floor of the mighty kingdom castle,
While we dance within its halls.

The sky is wrought with ash.
Withered flowers long to be reborn in our delight.
Your smile informs their want of expression.

Your hands caress their entrails down in the earth.
Nurturing a derelict heart.
Manically beating to our fluttering steps.

In the symphony of whispers,
The truth protrudes from shrinking skin.
The reverie of your voice staves off the assaults of doubt.

It weaves its way through the scaffolding of a dark architecture.
As the aching emerges,
Biting the nails of its urges.

A stoic assembly below awaits,
Full of loamy creatures.
Longing spoken at the edges of their eyes.