(Fool's) Hope For the Glory of Forever

Much older and more raw poem of mine, about lost love and The Fool's hope.

and to the air
just rid me of your world
softly divine with the rythms of deathless stares

complicated, the sea of fortune spat truth about
and I lost to despair saw not the meaning
but only the lies
that small fool's hope

cast out I lay chaste of toying dolls
the smell of summer's dying breath stains upon my mind

and with the beauty of forever dying to me
I watch the eagle's eyes
his talons sharp with nature's grasp

and would it call unto me?
that joyous day's return?
when peace and glory go hand in hand?

mark the pages with sheltered blood
the remorse lives on in servitude
and but a blind man's eyes who always sees the cold

golden streams may flow on
but the prize never changes
holding on to what has got me
I will flow along

and change, the malign
indignant in time
may cast the river's bodies into a wasteland of old and new

just watch the pieces fall
where they land call home
this brimming glory of self-sufficient nightmare
is all I'll ever know