We That Rise And Mystify Poem by isaac gracie

Grow faster – now – as we fall,
And – boldly – bleach our bones with dye
That pride colour beauty where we withdraw.

But on the wings of spectral things
Our beings stole from painted graves,
Shapeless shapes – rejoicing – sing
While haunted fanfares – haunting – play.

They mould flayed skin to our next of kin,
We are all together – now
We exist where lovers do flowers bring
And where their prayers fall with no sound.

And to each we belong – eternally –
We are all subject to time.
But subject – more – to a sin so deadly:
We are all subject to pride.

- We that rose and mystified -
Have shrunk. Have fallen. And have died.