Byde My Time

hearts, thumping loudly,
hear them wilt on as they cry.
it's a hungered hand that treats this calling,
yet in sorrow, does it stand.


wherefore?
wherefore wonders but adorn our walls
to call quickly to the fright,
yet imagine, in mine misted mind:
a faith dare none to pass.


and for on lasting breath,
I call to you,
call in heaven's stone-lined weight,
for the wearer's womb to adorn our walls
and carry on to many worlds,
this love, to
surpass the skies,
to where which fair night's beauty
shall come to find a way.

this way it finds it does,
air follows plainly in the glides.
Now forever held in pocket's grasp
is a heart:
but I truly had it all the time.