The fold

In the fields of widows peak,
where land clashes with sky.
Frozen water flows at bay,
the flames, they seek to cry.

Hues of blue, they taint the air,
allowing none to pass.
Sand of time blends into shape,
Slips through the looking glass.

World between the near and far,
the place where angels weep.
Compassion filled with desire,
no feelings there to keep.

Feather white and silky scales,
leaves painted of pure light.
Soft pink glow illuminates,
near sugary delight.

Auburn coal brings shadow dust,
corrupting streaks of blood.
Through the vines, life pushes through,
like liquid fills the flood.

Ashes swirling on the clouds,
brightly transform to pale.
Dwindling down upon the earth,
Painting the blades so frail.

Souls and lovers have no place,
this Eden to behold.
Guardian which sees to tunes,
of land between the fold.

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