Broad strokes, the sun's silence speaks so softly,
an absence giddily affecting me,jester or motley.
And the moon's made man miss many a sad thing,
your words elliptical and looping like Saturn's rings.
Ruthless kings, keep me in a dungeon of my despair,
the sky gently sets me down, but you take a leg

...............from the chair.


Rot, smoke, the stars sing sympathetic in symphony,
orchestra of the sky, binding like a nymph to its tree.
And the stone walls won't wash 'way a single dream.
Angels aren't always plucking harp's strings all for me.
Not free, and you can take away the heavens and clouds,
because every time you see that crescent moon in the sky,

...............you see God's frown.