...An Empty Tin Rattles The Most

...If you evoked a fyre
...and let it blaze away and out of it's own control
...but cried loss for the forests you dwell within
...and let falle tears that are as yet unknowne

...in darque, darque places that lighte cannot e'er travel to fynde
...just like these bittersweet heartfelt and emotionless wordes
...to your verrye scarred soul across a desolate minde

...an open gate to a summers field that is lain out to dry
...tred verrye lightley my dearest childe
...o'er the path through my closing spiritual eye

...seeds of the worthy cascade from the palms of the injuste
...fallen so delicately by the wayside again
...waiting for that inhuman humane last touche

...sitting and observing the galleons of cloudes on their journey oh so high
...the vastness, the sheer belittling beauty of the open bluest sky
...insignificance rains so self-importantly from the landes above
...in a room such as this has now come to be
...with these four walls, but so berefte, no love

...illest windes they may continue to dance
...dervishes spin and cavort in a helio-eccentric trance
...sending their earthbloode through this house as it standes
...to them this is theirs, not our mosaic'ed patchworkened lande

...then how pray tell, oh wise man, is it that
...stormes let leashed and unfastened but beguiled
...that clench the verrye fist of the lowest of heavens
...that woulde raze whyte fyre and hellwaters
...woulde then come to twyste so greate through the smallest of windows?