The Weave of It All

How I got here is nil,
Of no importance to this spill
On grounds of being emotionally ill,
I let go and let flow
Under moon glow
Beneath milky way slow
Turning on its axis of light,
Shattering perceptions of night,
Garnering moss that fights
The chill of unsettled eyes bright,
So far away from this frey,
No shield can make V-day,
 
Till finds a rainbow
Whose pot O gold shows
There is always life in snows - 
 
Blanketing ground for grists
To come next seasons mist,
Lifting kernal heads
Fallow fields ripen thick beds
Of promises kept,
In hopes new weft.