Cycleworn
i.
Peltdraped and poppymilk forsaken,
I’ve clung like ivy to saltombed years.
Hanging sword in lonely palace,
Followed like personal stormcloud.
ii.
Holyheaded, rabid and rapid,
I’m bursting forth with spiders, like I always will.
I am to remain a king among carrion, chasing ravens,
Until my corvidplucked eyes return,
Stainedglass, to my steel plate and honeygold skull.
iii.
I’ve made a new home in this place;
This, the house of the tiger,
Built on bloodbricks and lovesongs,
Cradles us like a pearl in God’s mouth.
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Glad for the comfortable ending “Cradles us like a pearl in God’s mouth” after such an eventful journey.