The Edge Of The Stream Poem by Chris Harris

Venues for the damned
Calling from the longfield
Spiralling forever
Flawless in roads decyphered

Circles within circles
Still taken with the lasting hour
Hostage of perfection
Ambassadors incarnate

Elite as though devoid
Feigning with the first day
As worlds untortured fell
Onward like appointed places

Among the sober laid
Perfect in all likeness
As eyes enabled fled
Searching almost broken

Fallen of intention
Alone the decoys ran