Zedo

Lost forms flip forward,
		tirade away.

The world’s grim vision opens,
	transitions screaming the forlorn night
						to wail,
			softly wounded.

Moons timeless,
a child sought through forests,
dense with abstraction,
weeping the Ancient Heart.

Love, last refuge,
ultimate the goal non-existent.
The secret treasure, lost in abstruse moments,
composed in vivid stares.

The last flamboyant wish
		opens eternal.
	Lost
		  recollection.

Immersed in caverns of darkness,
	  Carnivals of Hair.