Depression

Yadda, yadda, yadda

The black mood, the fell mood
Fay and wailing past,
Gothic grey elegance
Or crude broken glass,
Cast the sun into shade,
Bade the flowers as ash.
Now the spirit as flowers,
And the flesh worse than grass,
Laughs at death, laughs passing,
What matter that decay
Rusts world, when unfurled
Love plondering gave,
The cusp of the dusk
Brimming with wine born aid,
The dawn furnaced loaven,
To refashion and save.

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