The rising porcelain sun
Glistens off the shattering crystals
The eyes...
Oh God, the eyes.
The eyes can barely encompass it.
Without the glory of the untarnished soul.
The globe of white fury rises in the east
Shadows thrown against Indian's sacred ground
The heat of the rays lie softly upon the back
And the glory of the porcelain sun reigns.
What is this feeling?
Where did it come from?
Have we all been ignorant?
Have we all been shamed?
For the serious life has grown thin!
Fuck that!
I feel dim!
Are we just chasing dreams in a battle?
Or are we righteous themes in the herd of cattle?
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