Isengrim

I dreamt, with hope, down by the river's edge 

a lingering peace... of dreams I've never held. 

I plant · my face, into pools of undertow: 

Its rushing scenes, carried like every hope I had ever known. 

We too follow: the current of the blood stain flow. 

Its river, its tide, its swallowing might, 

A thirst made never whole. 

Ashes pressed, on roots that cling, 

to bones of soil & earth. 

Heed the time, passing by, 

a watcher to our ruin. 

We wander, 

where deep dreams of fields yield end. 

Eyes leer, from a place, 

where a fence of thickets ran. 

Calming are the asphodels 

in the moment of our strife. 

Take a drink, then wait to see,

that the datura blends in nice. 

Cracked, are the cups,

as every promise made. 

A beast of wood, of stalking yew, 

The Fox: a drowners fate.