Distant Future

A trumpet blares tonally inside my ear, if it's a reckoning I hear it seems I'm aware, I haven't found means yet to care.
But rather for speed on a wool carpet fly, to far distant shores devoid of long silky tides.
Along a plume of dream dark descent, it rips and tears, and finally it bares.
All regret here is fallen, it cannot stand up, its legs are bent over a patch of healed flesh.
This oven is heat, it cooks us whole wheat, when the lights are so dim to read some more time.
Time spent smothered in scent and in vines, from magical vineyards of this lady fair.
All wine to the mistress, all praise to the captain who steers lofty craft.
'Cross land and 'cross country formed brazen bold beauty, with guns at her anklets and knives at the crossing.
Spend lo your assertions be made on the laughing, so all happy times little rhymes be saved for the morning.
Where dawn is the demon deterring your smile.
Where daybreak defeats our red cheeks, our dark shelter.
Collapsing our clutches, deflating our dreams.
Till we smile again, on the coast of tomorrow.

*original creation date: 4/9/2007