Imagine vivid secrets
Cached in the dominant color of night
A bottomless of belches
Begirt with portents from their drums
Somehow or another the shadows broom leeches
The mist of shimmer sweating down the eye of night,
Indeed, the night is mantled in vast hours strumming scars of witness
And wishes we a dance, beneath shuddering tunes of erstwhile
A warrior had sheathed skeletons in pockets of night
And they brim, and beckon along the wingtip of time
Like bugles blown without sound, to shed trails
Of animosity across the narrow path of languid amity
And there are secrete cached in a dominant color of night
A talon wind pecking and scratching ears of the deaf