Dragonflies turn circles in the sky,
the madness moon cuts through the twilight.
Canopies of dripping fantasies
hang from the walls and the stone's soft breathing.
Stalactites reflect the walls in stalagmites,
and the mirrors will reveal
Every serpent image of a grinning gargoyle
whose eyes weep mercury.
Tower bells alert the sentinels,
you have no choice but join the masquerade.
Giant bees feed from the silver leaves,
the statues turn stare eyeless through the doorway.
And it's left to me to cheat the spinning winning wheel
as it slowly comes to rest
writing random patterns of the promise so old,
That tears me from my home.
