Poet Posts

Cold, the decay, the itch
Of eternity, passing by
Life, the living ones, the
Vibrant daze the hue of 
Rainbows, ever-flowing
Ever-becoming vines,
The twisted growth of
Forgotten ages, covering
The windows of the tower
Of great wisdom.

Rest, the ever-slothful
But earned sloth,
After toils, such
Vicious labors to no end
An end, the beginning
Of a new period, wherein
The watchers will be ever-
watchful, keeping the torchlight
Alive and lit, for the dignity
Of all ages.