imagine

[cacian]

the minutes unfold
you count the hours
a moment is gone

you are entire
you think of higher
to seek desire

your voice is undone
a self
alone
is surged to break
bonds

imagination
is shone
your world is baroque
the music is flock
to your senses and
time is suddenly flown

not a second to want
every minutes is slown
to place of a stunned,
emotional fond

a twist on the old
the fastidious
the rogue
the fake
and
the cold
they towered too long
and now they are strung
to a silent of songs