Notice the Sun bleeding a crimson creek
across the unforgiving autumn sky,
nocturnal lights kissing your sunken cheek.
Blinking screens have rendered your brain bleak,
blind to life and God, but does your mind’s eye
notice the Sun bleeding a crimson creek?
When faith’s defined by popular mystique
and time distorts perception, we defy
nocturnal lights kissing your sunken cheek.
But time is not subject to our critique,
and God has not been known to speak, so why
Notice the Sun bleeding a crimson creek?
For true sight resides at your widow’s peak
Where your third eye lies you may come by
nocturnal lights kissing your sunken cheek.
I walked alone and forgot how to speak
somewhere along deserted paths. But I
notice the Sun bleeding a crimson creek,
nocturnal lights kissing your sunken cheek.