Thursday, December 20, 2012
Like Violet Lights
The steadfast authors of resentment
Are for the ages of the buildings;
These workers exactly find minutes
In their days for the reality to be born.
The real quests are open to the adventurers
Of words and play, this reality has emerged.
My minds are mellow for the mild natures,
Authors fiddle with the words and unite
To form a rigor that hands down the gold.
My steadfast authors have an empire of words,
With slums and ships to build,
For the weeks and months stagger on the ground
From a penalty in the air.
The authority of the ground and air
Resents us from the proud men of evil,
Then the builders mimic one another.
I have seen their minds swallow facts
To be drunk from afar.
Their minds are like indigo lights,
And violet lights, from afar.