I could wallow and revel

on a level take the handle.

In my eyes light candles,

strike a fell artistic anvil.

Make me ways not done

before make me absolution

to rest upon my tired soul

and take away my confusion.

Forged not complete I go

somewhere only you know.

Illustrate peace for me grow

in fields of hills above snow.

What make you of this I feel

of this devotion wrought light

that begs only to take flight

in calm and in still of night.

Finding the calm in arms

that circle to never harm.

Find no reason for alarm,

speak with all your charm.

I would never take away

that which you possess say

my name I a phantom phase

who has lived in better days.

Make now make complete,

as we mend our weary feet,

things you desire to keep

walking on unkind streets.

I’ve taken my time to grow

I seek peace inside I know

that I don’t burry below;

things I carry now behold.

I shall not be a perfect type

slowly I grow just in despite

of the fact of my novel fight

is essential to supply insight.

Fell did this anvil upon dirt

so seek peace within the hurt

where truth does not divert

from this course spins earth.