Trespassers Against the Sun

write please read and enjoy

Neo-gilded era of neon lights that torment burning

taking the darkness out of shadows where lost cicadas chitter, lurking

above, one resplendent eye, dizzily always, turning

dry scales, old fangs lay about a serpent admires its naked form

it rises over the chapel and the cloud to bite the dove

now to feel its power surging, in this flesh reborn

with no ribs to cage, no heart-to conscience, to page; no love

Ageless aeons daemons themselves could nary grasp

this posing colossus, beautiful and eternal, shines on

not for worship or admiration, how small it is that tinier they seem

when in its glory they so openly bask

professing, consoling, confiding and watching, knowing it will be there when they are gone

knowing if nothing else is certain, there are many generations still this eyelash will bat upon

hanging there when they are none, as regular every day as the dawn.