Museum of Unquiet Light

We are all museums of fears they say For some a prologue , For some an epilogue Born to over love in the garden of graceless Folks But that’s the irony of Stories, the threshold of the unseen As the pathos of distance has eternally been Is so the philosophy of sorrow , the romance of sorcery The bittersweet adventures have always led to The unquiet dead, the utterly mistaken mystery of pain with the delusional of being found to live for the hope of it all I desire violently A bit mad but divine, A legal drug to be the autumn sunlight with the rage trapped and strange hungers blurred into dead wealthy kings with laughs of ancient language Count as Museum Worthy? - Across centuries and void of a sleepless world , As i seek none..