Are Wings In Death So Often Grown? Poem by David Lacey

Are wings in death so often grown
That they could be a part of me?
Lend me love in misery
And you can call my heart a home.

Know elder Gods are fallen here
In graveyards lost to rising dust
Find yourself the one you trust
And never trust in fear.

Walk the path to wisdoms door
As Wisdom blooms in melody
It makes me smile - sweet ecstasy
I could never ask for more

Waves of crimson anguish rise
Leaving me a ruined state
Could this be my fate - too late!
I no longer walk beneath the sky

So dance a dance of fallen cheer
Dance a dance of harmony
Dance with me - sing melody
We shall dance the falling year.