To begin with, you were sire to a chrysalis, which bore the difference between dreaming and awake.
The twins, which emerged were a sun and a moon.
And you taught them to walk in rotating circles around you.
Saffron back boned and violet faced.
Do you know the mountains believe,
You are their water colored kiss goodnight?
A momentary, sandwiched emotion,
Reflected for your own lacking of darkness and light.
Groom to the sunrise, covering the opposite end of the clock.
Protecting the ridges with your tangerine tendrils.
The fabric of nudity, which belongs to a day before it chooses to dress
In a cloak of bruised and blackened leaves with white blossoms,
Which it trails across the sky.
Teaser of artists,
Daring man kind to come up with a color only you can recreate.
A color which was meant to hold to no canvass other then air.
Are you licking each part of the ground as payment for the amount of gold,
That you've never been shy to dispense of?
You are the frame around an ornamental memory
That though the sun and moon suffer a funeral everyday that I survive,
They also suffer a birthday.
As does a personal desire in me to stay alive.