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.