Requiem For The Future.

The moon, full as a lover's heart;
It's tug a paper weight
Upon the pages,
Slackening my gauge
Of what constitutes me
And keeps me on dry land,
Surfing on the rim
Of the mist, the bedrock of my heart.

All things to dust in our wake.
We are love manifest in the torch of our cry.

The boy raised in a rural town.
A crippled frown, goes scattering admirers
Into shadows long, and leavened by oak,
Statuesque, shaded by gorse,
Trampled underfoot,
Brambles cloak the hut
In dreams.

All things may pale in our path.
We are love manifest in the drizzle we weep.

Love me.
Hold me.
Lift and embolden me.
I blaze this effigy for we will be.

The tide kisses the plea,
I stride upto my waste in foam.
An amniotic space, erotically erase
The confines of my dusky dead creek,
Emerging tender, sleek,
Nourished in my lonely heart.

All things be blessed in our birth.
We are love manifest in the lap of the shore:
Are you sure, are you sure?
This is love manifested in absolute bliss,
Is it this, is it this? Is this splendour endowed
On a duet of kings? Of all things, of all things,
This is what life will bring when the country boy sings
His slight hymn to completion.

So Carry Me Elysium.