Defiant messengers of hate.
Too obscure, I can t relate.
Washed away, salty waterfall.
Broken glass sliced the tongue and muted the call.

Illuminated by a pastel orange moon
In a twinkling-lit gray sky.
His paintbrush moves swift,
The portrait of a November night.

Canvas is laid flat
Tracing the stencil along the crease
Ink lines drawn and dried
And Heaven is His masterpiece.