The Silver Sun

A crimson dawn I saw, a burgundy foal, desperate and forlorn
Life’s in your loins, Life’s over and bygone.
Bewildered and bedazzled mine eyes stared forth,
Riveted from the helms of their sockets they might as well have hung.

A silver sun rose audaciously to embalm the scene in a sarcophagus of sin.
Fleeting clouds of miasmic red and scathing orange tinted the continuum
Glooms gnashing jaws ripped the suave soigné cotton of my dreams to shreds
I felt in every last nerve ending, the plundered plight of time, the sickly sin of man, the ingratiating injustice of ignorance.
Aboard a mahogany hull I stood, a wispy sea breeze kissing the freckles on my cheek,
To untold horizons we chartered, no end in sight, no origin to found our fears on.
Through musky, murky seas we limped, sickened with every passing silence.
Deadpan as driftwood to the clamorous cynicisms of dignity and vicariousness.

The silver sun writhed in her self solicited discoloured agony,
The golden skies glazed with fiery ferocity and swerved sophistication
Still we stood in an ecstasy of awe and fear, tourists in the course of our lives
Still we kept our conscience’s savage shrills and shrieks at bay

To untold horizons we chartered, no end in sight, no origin to found our fears on.
For we were but naïve nomads straddling the unkempt paddocks of our self made fates
And to such errands we cantered like white ponies with wispy tails on dress