after thoughts

The mountain lion frowned , in that downward sound , only he recognised
His queen was a dissapearence, a ghost,  on the shadow of the ice rock and roll, the blind
Where should he have gone? from here on in? The lodge of desperation, the ward of his torment
A figment,  of his imagination, resolving his cubs past and present,

Carnivore on the wings,  of a vultures claws, grasping through the lungs of the aftermath of his life
Even, embedded, shredded,  amongst a landscape of Monet blue and untoward strife
Who are you my embittered beast? A land of yeast or a sky of claws
The troll of caves, or the cloud of yours

An italic calligraphy of ink and a link into the background of  hurt, the princess or the prince
A mountain lion,spine so strong, the story must continue, the sideward eyes that glimpse
Who am I to question, the megalith of stone and marble etchings, the fetching of water the quenching of the drought
There is no answer to the equation,? The mammal, bird, nor resolute, drown amongst the growl or the cry of those that need the out.

The prophet must continue, the poem must progress
A movement of the sunrise, in which they must digress
In time stitch alterations, where the seam of life was pulled
The fabricated passions, in beast and bird instilled

The minds of all our children
A collapse intrinsic notes
Never let them conquer
The ones, and after thoughts