Opus Poetica

The afterlife station of poets in curfew time, giving riches to ponder and to refrain. Owls keep writing down all in posy found, while stories of spirits rise from the ground. Butterflies and Bees bussing the air, pollinating imagination to the wisdom fare. Glimmering images in still reply the whole, where twilight enriches the soul in the soul. Tempus nostra in spiritus Sanctus ignited, imperishable wings of love united. Golden words from the heart in depth, to see inside the length of breath. Amidst the lovers in deathless claim, time in pulse of sensation tame. The curled Moon wanders in occult position, for the little rational disposition. Church bells for the celestial train to arrive, I got a ticket for the classic sphere to revive.