hymn to the guidless ego

 how does the poppy drift

far from the wooden roses

leading out the starry sea

love is a fall we must lift

so let it constant be

the ticking of a clock

the gnattering of a cliff

crumbling to the abyss

see what others see

objectivly we all are unique

sweet like a honeybee

quiet,contemplative as a

rosary;doubtful as a bad recipe

hidden like life tucked

deep undercover beneath

a sicking moon thats influencing

and operating you no matter what you do

like a poet never forgets the skys

or beautiful sombre eyes of sunsets

drowned beneath tears dignified

but letting itself the convent

walking the arctic fields

around the palace sorrowing

mercifully in ruin

and time itself can't answer

to a myth

so dark roads

comfort

the guideless