The Dark Moor

Absolve worlds, lace bridges and burn skies. Beware the following, they prowl like evil's remorse, like the flood and the kind unities of faith, guiding through the day as the flood crowds at night with fears of gypsies that steal seats in the day. Live for strength to find the great design, midst the day and the labyrinth, wisdom to find the water and the rain. Along the bridges over rivers amongst the trees, love to hold a helping hand as the sun shines through trees. Power to flow over the land below the light changing the land carves the sand. Imagination and creation of the perfect blossom, understanding to which the sunset, beyond the aged trees, in the dawn fog will make home from cultivation and find refuge in the elements. As we breathe life to the clouds, find the voices in the temples of the oldest order, the first of which come last and leave me with zeal, to fly low across the fog above a stream, between the water worn stones in a lost forest. As if the sun is dying, we live with the elimination of the leaves and the flower petals, as if the failing air, bloody red on the shallow autumn floor, life among the dreams and the muses.