Favored Sense

I.Weak, or Chaste

A flock of images laden with clouds

Working between the fates

The layers will not say

With the patrons at the gates

Blind and late everday

In the primary light in shrouds

Her name haunts in solemn mists

The crucifix lies there slowly aching

With a man behind the walls

The mind is quickly breaking

In these shallow halls

Haunted by a call from the list

The drunkard sneers in a gritty orchestra

The liquors have been laced with extraordinary liquids

Above an looking down

The fading experience

The jazz of sun and moon

Escapes from foreign ideals

In contemplations of the ancients growing

The court has been sealed

By the jester's dance continuingly slowing

And all to soon

II.Still 

The sounds of the radio gleaming

A light guiding towards the day

With a sign along the way 

Still or captured

The weak will walk to dawn

With the virgin song

This procession lies

At the cathedral door

From the moor to the beggar

They remain still

As the wind hunts for its kill

The catacombs and the dungeons remain silent

Echoic and breathing

They remain still

On the electric pathway

The shimmering day

Shining with hope

Vanishes to the sea

And the beautiful skies

The captivations of the veridian scene

They all come to the bell

And ound the knell

The constant sound slows

As the images fade

And there stands a moment

Perfectly still