Tilled Earth

And so the Sun rose – cloaked by Silence.

The sweet tones of morning sated my

Curiosity for death, and I understood

The Reproach of Robins,

Singers of repentance

Given to forgive.

 

I begged of them atonement.

 

And so the Sun climbed, colored by Silence.

The doldrum notes of mid-day inspired my

Quiet sinning, loud to the crocuses’ pure –

But naive innocence.

I tear up their naivete

To decorate my weeping walls.

 

They whisper wise innocence now,

Until they die.

 

And so the Sun hung for its crimes

In the 3 o’clock horizon, and I hung

With him.

He asked me to bury him like a king

But I have only two dimes in my pocket,

And those are being saved for the jester’s funeral

I promised the moon.

 

And so the Sun set and I set,

Both laid to rest

in tilled earth.

 

And when the moon was buried next to me,

I harvested.

 

And the Sun rose, and the sweet tones of morning

Sated my sorrowing seeds.

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