Edit 3: Sepulture

[alonso ramoran]

Sepulture

A sinking titan pushes with 
golden arms, bleeding pink, 
against a boneless black embrace 
until she drowns in the west. 

Then we're left with the pall 
she wove out of water, that 
glowed in the dampness of 
yesteryear's teardrops from 
gathering stars,  
 
unknowing of tomorrow. 

Congregation 
 
Last beams of blue brilliance 
are being pushed by our titan 
against a boneless black embrace 
till she drowns in the west. 
 
Then we're left with the pall 
she wove out of water, 
that glowed in the dampness 
of ages-old teardrops 
from gathering stars, 
 
unknowing 
of the routine.


Edit 1: Congregation 
 
Last beams of blue brilliance 
is being pushed by our titan 
against a black and boneless embrace 
till she drowns in the west. 
 
And we're left with the pall
she wove out of water,
that glowed in the dampness
of ages-old teardrops
from gathering stars.
 
Then time will reset
that last lovely rite
before we resume
our morning routines.


Original: Nightly Congregation 
 
Our titan drowned forcing light  
into the ambiguous night 
and the pall they had woven 
from out of the water  
is stained with the tears 
of the gathering stars.  
  
This will happen tomorrow, and the day after,  
and throughout many lifetimes; 
as if it wasn't a routine.