The Seeker

Shards of contempt spare the seeker
For the stitches of simplicity make him weaker
The throws of gold and crimson old
Slice him like a newborn fever

For the untimely rise of a burrowed fool
Who questions his god and condemns his tools
Spring from the stream like anguished stones
To inscribe himself with a chalk on the tombs

The jagged rain poured down on the bridge
And opened its body to allow in the sun
That painted a moment that fell like snow
That severed the fabric that anchored him so

Flit like an arrow born from the bow
That sailed through the harvest to make it grow
The plains were drawn into tomorrow
For the seeker is bound by the conquer of sorrow