The House of His Moods

To give greed greeds due

and by it be free of it…,

a pasty warrior of words

and spells and wholesome

deeds that some misread,

to some mismanaged hound,

a dog of fearsome…,

nay - a fickle meaning,

who in their right mind…,

show me one with the right 

mind,

but there in the farthest corner

of that scorched land,

The Hand of God,

saved from the sword

with bells and whistles

and the beauty,

to help him leave 

this hollow nest

where there are no 

birds voices,

no echoes and woe,

here we be - the lost

and loud,

the unsolemn,

a sand, a rain, a sea,

the quiet storm

and souls that sing,

intermingled with 

cherry blossoms, wind

and boggled eyes 

of the newborn child.