Within the deep heart's darkness,
During the moment of the wrench,
A symphony old plays regardless,
Composed of the shadows entrenched,
Like a thorned lion afraid of the pain,
Bellowing low in the belly of the cave,
Twisted peace in the tampered mane,
Goblet tremble with the tears it saved,
To soothe the ocean of turmoil,
An embrace of atmosphere and calm,
Scratching through dry empty soil,
Discovering roots that weep with balm,
The flesh it holds dear a toxic bead,
Planted and placed for some former sake,
To retrace the steps and so pluck the seed,
Our bed of nurture somehow has to break,
So to heal and renew the fertile feast,
Open yourself up in the heart to the land,
Pull the pricke from the foot of the beast,
So life may plough with loving hands.
Rowan Blair Colver
During the moment of the wrench,
A symphony old plays regardless,
Composed of the shadows entrenched,
Like a thorned lion afraid of the pain,
Bellowing low in the belly of the cave,
Twisted peace in the tampered mane,
Goblet tremble with the tears it saved,
To soothe the ocean of turmoil,
An embrace of atmosphere and calm,
Scratching through dry empty soil,
Discovering roots that weep with balm,
The flesh it holds dear a toxic bead,
Planted and placed for some former sake,
To retrace the steps and so pluck the seed,
Our bed of nurture somehow has to break,
So to heal and renew the fertile feast,
Open yourself up in the heart to the land,
Pull the pricke from the foot of the beast,
So life may plough with loving hands.
Rowan Blair Colver
