A Small Bird Of Loneliness

A small bird of loneliness is flying Through desolate and the many grasslands Lightless color the ways one understands When some true heart is there trying Feelings blue shores the clouds crying All from inside the heart truly commands The songs from terrestrial leavens wastelands Feelings the grass every color drying Waters that those alone know like perfume Surrounded and enchained to its foams Velvets of vet fallen prairies dark flume Dryness of bleak gloomy earthly chromes Every inner murky wearied small bloom Alone structured stamens the roots and domes