THESE BONES

I pray to the Gods, for the strength to protect these bones
For much like that frail memorial, my foundation's weak
But there's a sweet disorder, to so much time spent alone
Affording my soul the opportunity, to touch the paraclete

I find that it is in the beauty, that surrounds these bones
Where pathos goes to die, and bountiful hope does shine
As a centrifugal force inside, that metaphysically postpones
This deadly deterioration, that these bones unwind

I can always find some glistening reminder, in the ether alone
That bends and shapes, the lavender light of my third eye
It's there that I swim, in the restoration of these bones
It's there that I'm reminded, that the soul never dies...