Perfect bridges for a fading light
taking you to dark caves like fireclay in fake sorrows.
The superstition of a race pool
and unearthing the sacred temple under a mount of lies.
In vitro, a baby god sleeps
waiting for a butcher knife impaling the hymn on thorns.
A silver lining for a black moon who refused to walk away.
The stars were frightened and bewildered.
A corporal punishment was waiting for the sun
who neglected his duty during sundown.