Falls

My beloved, of once, I write these lines,
To be a sailing blotch, for endless times.

Bloomed from nothing, a pasture not rot,
Lovely in quietus, who would have thought?

A repeat akin to möbius, obviliously inveigled,
Empressed lead spuriously, behind by the dead.

Today, tomorrow, yesterday, all same,
A puzzlement in time, a dangerous game.

Numbness can be ignored, closed can the senses be,
So what if none can escape, each heart's esteemed melody?

Yes an empty shell, of glee and furthermore no agony,
Incredulous? Ah! Ahoy, I do dare you to stop me.

Broken gets the band, the jingles cease to rain,
Yet the drizzling drops, keep betraying their pain.

A line like a circle, these last two lines do fill,
For sometimes the inks of errors, do not want to heal.