Misty

Over and over the ride awaits

A carriage good and sound

A go, to go, forego, we go

and now the round spins!--

tilts on it's axis no more or,

freeform expression a painting perhaps

He pleads and begs with knees rusty and matted

Feet of vines to soak the fall not bound like his wife's

before Dysentery dragged His sword

into her glowing heart.

A guarded truth of us 

We turn the pages

One by one

For we are the stories

Without endings

Like mirages that only come true through

a cloaked gaze

They are dug into history

Encrypted with prints