one thousand more
leather lies, this weathered prose,
barren feather, vain pages dissect,
from thousand’s eyes, he doth repose,
on auburn grain, on life reflect
‘fore corners worn, ‘fore mortal sphere,
antiquated hands, tender artisan brush,
His every stitch, done most sincere,
with cardinal ink, papyrus flush
veiled close, cross Sea of Black,
enlightened soul, limbs hold tight,
relinquish he must, to get it back,
this carnal crave, commanding fight
thousand innocent eyes strip heart from word,
for thousand more shall parable be heard
-l.a.
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