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Grey Marigolds
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intertwined souls the only place where dead flowers still grow,
is in the meadows of death.
they used to grow everywhere and all around,
but then everything came.
in the place of dying meadows,
a black sky alights with your purple sun,
illuminating all below.
the oceans on this darkened world,
swirl with rainbow pyrite,
reflecting the deepest of images,
which he shows you.
in everything you touch here,
is a living, dying, beating heart.
your body exposes a divine touch,
glimpses into before anything was at all.
the land is purely alive, purely dead,
life and unlife melted,
glowing and dimming,
giving and receiving,
in perfect balance.
the beauty is the key of living,
smelling of sweetest passion ideas,
the only place where grey marigolds still live.
