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The Miror
Errant knight vacillates at dawn
following the figure of the swan.
Elect the bright heroic craze
that leads you down an endless maze.
Winter sings its song into
the virgin landscapes brightest hue.
I want for you to join me now
and tell me where the source runs out.
The Mystic delivers a sullen grain
that has forsaken all the pain
of nights we live in azure skies
praying that we never die.
I was once a lot like you
always knowing what to do
but the rhymes have a cost
and one’s soul cannot be bought.
The dew it colors all the minds
with the sound of sunken signs,
In the mirror, we two meet
and dream of an endless sleep.
Copyright ©
Brian Bronson
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