SOHO: The Return ~ Abandoned Museum

ABANDONED MUSEUM Bow of Burning Gold; Burn steady in the moonlight. Glow with ready, Curved to bend with simple grip. No matter the crucible, My bow has known, My side its home. And I've seen; A sea of painted faces, Roaming through the dead of night, And waiting to move. A story of my life. But through every court we stride, And if they've faced villains, We have faced more ~ Cloak adorned with black hats. The fog obscured the sky, The beach did sing to me, With its unending waves. The thoughts impending, In the timeless days, To watch the eyes unfold from the bay, To watch behind its frame, The landscape and life of skyscrapers, pavements and information that burned. Its better burnt, Sweat in turn is boiling, Boiling scorched earth. Curled letters made order from its madness. A bow lifted in sadness, from the ashes. His hands covered in bruises and scratches, But the man was made to burn. To fletch the arrow; We will need a match to light the way. The bow. My boots were treading, By abandoned art and paintings, Like dunes of Goya's dreams, They came endless from the sea. Drifting canvas ~ dripping oil, Salted soil of thoughts and memory. As if a pirate's ship had crashed far from shore. And from the distant island they floated in, Like scores of seals, As the sea turns to an abandoned museum. I studied every vision, I studied with precision, I studied the stories, And the history. All the secrets I was seeking.