March Insane

Your weeping eyes are ringing.
Bells to sound are seaming the weave.
All the time it came to me.
One to another, a friend of thunder.
A gift to thee, in all secrecy.

From floor to ceiling,
door to frame,
MARCH INSANE!

Your sunlit eyes are seeing,
the structured parts of being striped away.
All you thought it came to be.
Footsteps talk and your eyes do walk.
Roads of glass, for all that’s past.

From floor to ceiling,
door to frame,
MARCH INSANE!

© Je0ff Taylor | 1987