This is a poem about exploring ideas, it's more about the beauty of words and images than having a precise analytical meaning. Let it provoke your own thoughts,
Silk lavished skin embraced with the glowings of sun.
Cockles and muscles hauled along by bony ankles,
Swaying anchor at the bottom of the deep blue kiln.
Hesitating scent of serenity strewn across a lingering perfection.
Untouched by desolate hands, swaying trees through the heavens.
Branched fingers stretched holding the stars;
Painted beacons past the point where lateral ways cease.
Burnt out eyes of spun gold breathed across a creation.
Resting light dozing on shrivelled red leaves.
Surging power through the tranquil battle fields.
Gravestones stepped upon by the giant foot of lightning.
Humble hands of the bystanders age.
Some things lost to the reincarnation of youth,
New stones set skimming, before plunging, sunk below.
Unlived, unheard, unended.