Wry

Golden roots that rise above,
Hidden summer, winter cold.
Hazel eyes on the edge of being,
Bleeding words to grab the moon,
Diving deep into the black lagoon.
Salting nerves to still the gaze,
Watching loners chafe my side,
Tread on leaves that make me slide.
Hold the wave that strikes the stars,
Lost against the one in all,
On that luster covered wall.
Clone this wretch a thousand times,
Sailing back a deja vu.
Hand a memory color blue,
Chosen by the one unknown.
Stretch the thread until it breaks,
Get notion of what it takes,
To reach the illusion beyond the lush.