Only a Swath Remains
Tearing down that which stands between;
Abundant dreams forsake betrothal’s queen.
Dreams of fortune torture burning desire;
A cut above the rest, before displaying ire.
Success is daunting, from a melted window,
Where elephants sing songs, humming very low.
Only a swath remains of the garden, scorched;
A fire blasting through a doorway, being forced.
In the face of evil, a pleasantness surrounds;
The holiest among us, daggers piled in mounds.