Said Spun

as all suns spiral
into dust

the driftless sand
turns vitreous

into molten mire

of cataclysmic cries
heard passive

mass of the morass

by the naked eye

reflective of the roving truths

our semblance
bears inside

where narrative
spares none

for it is here
that we must make our peace

behold the vision
ne’er beholden

watch its light
bend into prism

let no pride
build prison walls

not privy to the pain unseen

nothing is as blinding
as the bleakness
of the mind forsworn

for love is won

with wakeful eyes
and heart supine

pray heed the moral
etched in time

said spun
by loom
of Somnus’ station

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