The Sun Turned Black Like Goat Hair, The Moon Turned Blood Red, The Stars Fell Down To Earth

 In a torrent, eventually it shall all come about,

grave images shining like a forgotten moon,
a begotten son
It is the blood that casts shadows,
cloud bursts moving forward from the glittering stars
that have fallen down
Scary thoughts, dead sea lurking, dripping in the corridor,
on a bearded mat for two, trickling through a knotty lane on special days
in thickness it may pulse with the glory of a seedless carpenter cranking up the heat
He has burnished enemies and tarnished sullied reputations,
for the sake of glimmering skies and bloody ocean pearls
They have placed them upon a sack of goat hair, dried food for running,
immaculate gestures cankered high

This is why the raven appears far below the silhouette's thorny crown
Pristine chariots riding on the talisman, an effigy, stone, guns, tainted cries
Searching for a partner to come quiet in a saffron dusk, be sad and merciful yet contented still
But real horse may not be always easy to get, on dry days you will probably burn
yet whatever happens it is too good to think about, a sacred vision but be careful
when you yearn
Sit back, be pleasant, enjoy the view as the pictures do not present themselves
on ordinary glass, stained windows artfully done by the chalice the central character chided
for telling outlandish stories inflammatory lies
This is enough to have anyone hung and you can bet that it had many people saddled, sitting alone on their wooden chairs rocking for peace and three peas
in a pod with karats screaming nothing is finished yet but I will be coming home soon
But this may have been when the lunar form began to turn away for there may be
too many responsibilities when it comes to paintbrush and rouge
Lonely parts may do much to have themselves exposed, conciliatory ranks
black crucifix borscht salted with vinegar baked bread solid with rye

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