Red As Blood and Wool of Wail

The wound becomes inward like the pink moon after a little rain. It glows and then becomes red as the blood and the wool of the wail dangling white like a sheep in the wind. And this thorn that now curves in your breast; you will not bring to the garden nor to the throned light. It lies at your breast as a bone of some lost horse. It will not bring Light to the growing mooring-post. Nor will it exalt in any way the twining winds that move in the night. :: 10.31.2022 ::