Amber Clouds of Time

Wealth is a meager tool
for the responsibility
of the constricting of property
it is nothing like a poem
this poem is my property

on the heart of silence
it is built with passed time
and shoulders under water
I have stolen the bulls
of the stricken pace

and the bells of matrimony
call out my memories
like stolen time
a digression from reality

from limber doorways
and amber clouds of time