Hold

The glade of dreams
Hovers close it seems
Like stormclouds curling
and silently whirling
Draping scenery
With unwieldy energy

But here in my home
Of ivory bone
Dark callings come hence
And I wince
As hordes claim holding
to the plaster and molding
Which I've waiting wanting since.

In the right connection
Flush with star's intention
the hold comes back to me
And the inhabitants, they flee
So there I will slump
to articulate misery.