God Was His Shadow, the Flowers Died

Beautiful like a warm painting against Heaven's dust of sky. Where is eternity and the mind's dust of kind? Through my hands hairs from a lonely past. I have broken the mist and the rainbow kissed the queen. In the mirror, wings lit midnight magic's cup. Leaves, water with time. A kiss. I wish to be a butterfly inside of Bob Dylan's stomach breathing night prints of the moon and naked babies in France paints the sky red wearing fashion models. Resting on a bottle of midnight stones and flames rolling on peace and dreams. The sweet heaven I hear the laughter of earth and the rain was summer on your lips. A pretty day of sun melted from the show of colors and God was his shadow the flowers.