The Dew Path

Here I sit in the light of a cold night
Being led to my own dream, skating on ice
I was thinking at this pace
Torn thin in the moon light
Torn from peace as the gleam eyed, cracking a moment
Written by shards slain

My room is delayed Faust
And the dew squirms on the window pane, this rebel
Drawn in some exhibition of dismay
Filtered in capsules, peeling and losing in disdain
This ghost coughs at right in the cold season
Thoughts loss distance from suns
That summons keeps the ticking with screams
Frozen drops evening lament, like standard placement
In this light of, the bare trees wildly growing

Times forsaken as wonders that find out the time
The seed within a pod unable to break forth free
Jewels from darkness, in the acceptance of such fate
Hold fast the promise

In delayed lines, proved so flaxen, nurturing whims
To be shining in each division of each step
With impressions longed as impressive
That stayed with might till the next day
As parameters glowing angles to require
With steadfast torn filaments of such shown light
Who yearned in this path like a sought for door
And said it was enough even when there was more