The observer

the goddess that in the morning breathes the dust
envies my immortality, drains me into age, my downfall
I am without the power to teach the others
because I have been in wicked love myself

The goddess that breathes the dust of ancient lives
rips the ancestral skin, pushing forever through time
my insubstantial being,
granting through the complexity of emotion,
this life which soothes the darkness

I myself walk the grounds of eternity
wrapped with intentions to harness
and signify a present calm,
but fail to justify lured choices,
such that determined reasons good or not

The grounds of eternity empty
until affections become stale,
until they can trail from the crib
holding my severed childhood

I am unable to explain the composition
that tempts the hands of time