This Shroud

This Shroud of velvet roses, blooms

completes the sound and crescendos before noon

the older threads, reach out to desert air

through dust, they flail and are ensnared

This ancient light reflects the glassy sky

in return is seen the golden snake

out from it's mouth pour dreams of silenced songs

this shroud is only what may come

for all is known are dried up yesterdays

meadows out the windows warm the scene

as the wind goes mad

The Sun, silent, shimmering; fades

and every beam that beats the cloth is vague

as silver smoke creates a ladder to the sky

from the hood, are slow and moving ghosts

one by one, they return to the host

is it real?

As the shroud begins to slip

what is seen begins to fade away

the sky reflects the mind and the sand begins to clear the day

without hesitation flies the summer's sweet sensation

the unveiling of the end