Researched: The Ghost.

Written as sunlight rips through noisy glass window, enroute far down the unseen horizon

24/09/21

Friday, summer soon meets the end of pleasure

@a place of confident hope

Dear world,

I, as clay, a carved blossom of A ghost,

pose what puzzle is left here to ponder?

Its light, bearing godly scenes of the coast,

fault unseen in all points of high delight.

‘River river on my ground, who’s fairer,

of us all?’ Cries a white swan with all might.

Wings without words, seeking to intervene, 

for all life placed, bow to find Fairest, dear.

Here of numbered days, game of unknown rein,

for what grand price are we to run along?

A trade of obedience, pays skyline flow,

for time here quests for bare feet to belong.

And what reap, The glass being, is to sow?

His clays to tame lions: all He raptured.

Sincerely,

A clay taming lions