Awash the balmy bound’ry blazed,
So draped in iron sweep.
Palatial vault which smoke has raised,
Brings glimpses from the deep.
A dark’ning river bends in kind,
Reflect untutored sham.
Pale idols shine among the blind,
For who can feel the cam?
The father marks the sun has set.
A face turns to depart.
The braided wood and gilded net,
Adorn the ticking heart.
The wispy hands find patterns traced,
Donate a solid click.
When stars align the hammer’s pace,
Gives tones as true as brick.
A moth confuse the good affairs.
Fate ends the day in glee.
The darkness comes but luck forbears,
Necessity births three.