Molten Gold

shackles and chains  
dangle from up above  
he's pacing grooves into the floor  
dipping his fingers,
into  the decadent molten gold  
 
with brush strokes that rival  
the visions of angels and demons.  
broken mirrors, reflection unstrung  
craving his last words into stone walls.  
 
molten gold drips like fiery teardrops  
spilling over his crestfallen eyes  
bitterness leaves streaks, that shine  
in the moonlight...  
 
these burnt offerings I've offered  
as the lute hums, and bandy bards  
sing songs of a golden haired maiden  
with bracelets and bangles, hanging  
from her wrist..for before sunlight glimmers  
 
we're all ravens...  
          pecking at flecks  
                       of molten gold.